


Gone

by Walkerbaby



Series: The Cynthia Baxter Chronicles [2]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 06:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkerbaby/pseuds/Walkerbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gene's goddaughter comes up missing and a serial killer is loose in Manchester. Things only get more interesting as Gene's favorite forensic expert comes out to play as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

“Tyler!” He heard the Guv bellow from inside his office. “Front and center now!” 

Sam tossed the file he was reading on his desk and stood hesitantly. What had he done now? Sam thought quickly and decided that he hadn’t asked the Guv not to disregard evidence, hadn’t harped about forensics or even suggested that the other man try some other tactic besides hit first and question later at all this week. Nothing had happened at home either. 

Well, Sam amended, nothing that would make his Guv bellow angrily. He’d gotten quite a few other sounds this morning with the mouthwash trick he’d decided to try. Silently Sam sent up a prayer of thanks to the girlfriend who’s first done it to him. Probably should go arrest his 20 year old self in a few years for the way he’d acted with her, give himself a good shake and tell him to quit being such a horny little fuck because he was going to lose her if he didn’t actually try talking to her. Although he worried about the effect it might have on the whole time-space thing. Better to just remember enjoying the constant bunny fucking and forget about the fact she didn’t even bother to tell him when she left - just up and buggered off out of Manchester back to New York and out of his life forever without even a call. 

“Yes Guv?” Tamping down his inner monologue Sam raised an eyebrow as he pushed warily into the office and then straightened immediately. “Commissioner Walters Sir,” Sam tried to remain blank faced. “What can I do for you Sir?” 

“I’ll let the Gene Genie explain that one,” the Commissioner announced with a tired grimace. Turning he looked at Gene. “I’ve left Superintendent Rathbone in charge for the duration of this Gene but he’s been warned that he is not to interfere with you or your team on this case. You are to be given anything you need and if I find out that hasn’t happened Rathbone will be on crossing guard duty until the day one of us retire. Since he’s older than me by at least 10 years I let him draw his own conclusions as to who that would be.” 

“Understood Commissioner.” The Guv nodded curtly. 

“If that other one, what’s his name? Litton? If he even looks like he’s going to step in to interfere and bungle this case call me at home. I won’t bother putting him on traffic duty - he and all his team will simply be out on their arse.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow at the Guv and remained silent. The Commissioner turned and looked at him. “DI Tyler, Gene here tells me you’re the best picky pain detective he’s got. Assures me you should be a DCI in your own right. Solve this case for me and you will be. Promotion will be immediate. Any team you choose.” 

“Thank you Sir,” Sam nodded, “but the only team I want to lead is CID Sir. And only if I’m following the Guv here up the promotion ladder. I’ll make DCI in good time Sir. Once the Guv’s been made a Super.” 

“Good man,” the Commissioner tried his best to smile and Sam could see the exhaustion etched into his face. “You may get your wish sooner than you’d hoped.” 

“Go home John,” the Guv broke in. “Hold Isabelle’s hand. I’ll call you as soon as we know something.” 

“Thank you Gene,” the Commissioner nodded again and stuck his hand out. Sam watched as the Guv shook it solemnly. 

“We will find her John,” the Guv assured. “I promise you we will find her.” 

“Find who?” Sam asked quietly as the Commissioner slunk silently through the outer doors, shoulders drooping and head hung low. 

“Commissioner’s daughter, Miranda. Went missing sometime yesterday afternoon.” 

“It’s a kidnapping?” Sam asked. 

“We don’t know.” The Guv answered. “Her husband came home and she wasn’t there. Didn’t come home last night and he thought maybe she’d spent the night at her parents. Does that sometimes if she goes over for dinner and ends up staying late. Come this morning and she’s not there either. No one seen hide nor hair of her.” 

“Took off with the milk money?” Sam suggested. 

“No,” the Guv shook his head. “Not Miranda.” 

“We sure about that Guv?” 

“Not Miranda,” the Guv said resolutely. “She wouldn’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Don’t know many newlyweds who just up and leave a happy home with a husband who spoils her rotten do you?” 

“Sometimes,” Sam nodded. 

“Well even if you do Tyler,” the Guv said stubbornly. “Miranda isn’t one of those. Miranda is a good girl. Besides I don’t know many women who take off with the milk money four months into the marriage. Usually takes a little longer than that.” 

“Besides, I just saw her last week outside her father’s office. Happy as a lark she was and glowing like an angel. That’s not a girl who takes the housekeeping money and takes the train anywhere but here now is it?” 

“No,” Sam shook his head. “Wouldn’t appear to be. How do you know her then Guv?” 

“She’s my god daughter,” the Guv said gruffly. Turning he looked around CID. “All right you tossers, you may or may not know that I’ve just had Commissioner Walters in my office. His daughter, Miranda, is missing. Now some of you know I’ve got a particular fondness for Miranda, girl is my godchild. I held her when she was less than a day old and didn’t strangle her when the girl pissed down my best shirt and smiled while she was doing it. I have assured Commissioner Walters that we will be finding Miranda and we will be arresting the scum that have taken her. Now, get out there and find me something!” 

“Yes Guv,” they all agreed. 

“Good,” the Guv announced. “Carling, you and Skelton go round the neighborhood and see if anyone saw anything. Cartwright you and Geoff go see if you can’t find anyone who might have had a grudge against the Commissioner. Everyone else, noses to the ground and sniff me out something!” 

“What about us?” Sam asked. 

“We’re going round to see the husband. Guy by the name of Pitcairn. Surgeon at the local hospital.” 

“Right,” Sam agreed. 

Once they were in the Cortina he looked over at the Guv. “Want to tell me how you know the victim Guv?” 

“Told you, she’s my god daughter.” 

“The Commissioner’s daughter is your god child?” Sam asked. 

“He wasn’t the Commissioner when Miranda was born,” the Guv answered. “Regular detective before then. My commanding officer during my national service in Palestine. Came out and didn’t have a job to go to. He got me on in the police force. He was the DS that persuaded them to take me out of uniform and make me a DC.” 

“First month I was a DC,” the Guv shifted the Cortina angrily. “Got a burglary case. Two scrotes heist a jewelry store and turns into a standoff with police. Afterwards, John gets close with one of the hostages. Turns out she’s a Stanley.” 

“A Stanley?” Sam asked. “As in the Stanley Stanley’s?” 

“Those Stanley’s.” The Guv confirmed. “Only child. Set to inherit it all. So, she and John get close when he’s questioning her. Getting her statement took so long that it led to dinner and then dinner again later in the week to clear up a few details. Before long checking up with her on the details had led Miss Isabelle Stanley into a condition that not surprisingly had John’s name written all over it.” 

“He got her pregnant?” 

“Married her two months later in the biggest wedding Manchester had seen since her mother’s. Felt like a bloody trussed up Christmas goose that day.” 

“You were in the wedding?” Sam asked. 

“Best man. Even gave a nice toast. Said how lucky John was to be getting a girl like Isabelle and how a man couldn’t ask for any better. Didn’t know how right I was.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Week later, John’s up for promotion to DI. Not just any posting either, right over to the Commissioner’s office and into a cozy desk job. He was a DCI before Miranda was out of nappies and a Superintendent before she started school.” 

“Impressive,” Sam agreed. “You’re saying his father in law bought him promotions?” 

“I’m saying that John Walters big brown eyes, his astounding virility and forgetting to cover his todger before he started canoodling with the lovely Isabelle Stanley put him right in the Commissioner’s office. Makes me regret offering to go for the tea that day.” 

“Thanks,” Sam grinned. “Good to know where I stand.” 

“You’d make a wonderful mistress Sammy,” Gene smiled slightly then as he reached over to squeeze Sam’s knee. “And I’d keep you in a much better style if I had Isabelle Stanley’s money and the Commissioner’s pay packet to do it with. Buy you all the pretty dresses and hair ribbons your heart could desire. Might even spring and buy you some of those books you’re always banging on about.” 

“Rather prefer sleeping in your bed and not being kept out of sight myself,” Sam answered with a return pat on Gene’s knee. 

“Out of sight anyway,” Gene answered. “Then I’d just be able to afford more for you.” 

“Aren’t you glad I’m not high maintenance then?” Sam smiled. 

“I don’t know about that,” Gene shrugged. “ Now let’s get back to the case because I’m starting to sound all Dorothy like and that’s your department.” 

“We need to call Baxter in and have her go over the scene.” 

“We don’t have a scene yet.” 

“Wherever the last place is that someone can definitely put her Guv. We can work out from there. Baxter might find something.” 

“Not exactly sure where that is,” the Guv answered. “That’s why we’re talking to the husband. From what we can figure he’s the last one to see her.” 

“That’s not good,” Sam muttered. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Your rules of policing Guv,” Sam replied. “Last one to see the victim is usually responsible.” 

“Not in this case,” the Guv answered. “That boy loves her too much to do anything to her. Besides he had to pass her father and my approval before we let him marry her. Inspired enough fear he wouldn’t think of hurting her.” 

“Heat of the moment Guv,” Sam shook his head. “Never know what could have happened. Besides, they’re your rules.” 

“Let’s just hope my rules are wrong.” 

“You’re saying you might be wrong?” 

“For once, Tyler, I hope I am.”


	2. Chapter Two

“Dr. Pitcairn?” Sam asked the disheveled man who opened the brick home’s door. 

“Gene?” The man sighed in relief. “John said you were coming to talk with me. Come in.” 

“Andrew,” the Guv nodded. “Wish it were better circumstances seeing you again. This the new house?” 

“Yeah,” Sam saw the man swallow. “Miranda,” he swallowed again. “She wanted to stay here as soon as we could. Movers aren’t even going to start until next weekend with the furniture but she’s been moving boxes over on her own. Been sleeping on a mattress on the floor.” 

“Miranda’s sleeping on a floor?” The Guv asked sharply. 

“Told her we had a perfectly good bed in my flat,” Sam saw the man mumble. “She told me she was too excited to wait until it had gotten moved. So I compromised with her. We’d sleep here without furniture but she wasn’t allowed to move any boxes herself. She would simply tell me which boxes were to come over and I’d retrieve them. No lifting on her part at all.” 

The Guv just grunted before nodding in what Sam thought might be grudging approval. “Tell us about the last time you saw your wife.” Sam broke in. “Walk us through the last 24 hours together.” 

“I had the weekend off,” Pitcairn replied. “For once I wasn’t on call or have patients to see on rounds. We had the entire weekend to ourselves. That’s pretty rare -”

“Tyler,” Sam added. “DI Tyler. You can call me Sam.” 

“Right. That’s pretty rare Sam.” Pitcairn continued. “I’m the youngest doctor in my practice and the lowest seniority surgeon. That means I spend most of my time still on rotations that include weekends and holidays. I had this weekend off though.” 

“Tell us about your weekend. Every detail could be useful,” Sam persisted. 

“We stayed in mostly,” Pitcairn looked over at the Guv and blushed scarlet. Sam looked over and saw the older man glaring at Pitcairn. 

“Guv,” Sam interceded. “Perhaps you could go outside and radio for Baxter? If they were staying in this house she needs to process it.” 

“Don’t you want to hear what happened this weekend with my god daughter?” He grumbled. “Could be important to our case.” 

“I think I can handle it,” Sam answered. “You, meanwhile, look like you could use a smoke and Baxter will complain that the residues are interfering with her chemicals.” 

“Wouldn’t be good for Miranda’s asthma either,” Andrew said nervously and then dropped his gaze from Gene’s. “If you find her today the residues will inflame her lungs, she’ll be miserable all night.” 

“Right,” the Guv agreed sullenly. “Don’t need residues inside the house. I’ll radio Baxter.” 

Once the Guv was outside Sam saw Pitcairn relax visibly. “Better?” He asked with a smile. 

“Thank you,” Pitcairn replied. “I know it shouldn’t bother me, telling you about what happened this weekend with her Uncle Gene here but it does. Man of the world or not the man still threatened to castrate me at my own wedding using nothing but a rusty pair of pliers and a bottle of double malt if I even so much as looked cross eyed at Miranda.” 

“I wish I could tell you it’s all a bluff and he’s got a great nougaty center,” Sam snorted. 

“But it isn’t and he doesn’t.” Pitcairn ended. 

“Tell me about your weekend with Miranda,” Sam brought the subject back around once he knew the man had relaxed. 

“Nothing much,” Pitcairn replied. “Dinner Friday night at d’Or. Then home. We spent all day Saturday in bed. Went for chips near the University around eight. Went over to the flat and retrieved a few more boxes and then came home. Sunday was the same as always; church and Sunday dinner with her parents and then home. Stopped for ice cream and then came home to bed. Spent the evening there.” 

"So you spent the weekend at home having sex?” Sam clarified. “Did you talk about anything important? Fight at all? Did she mention something bothering her? Someone?”   
“We talked about the things we always talked about.” Pitcairn replied. “What color to paint the nursery when she finally got pregnant and why I hated Nicolette for a name if it was a girl and I’d compromise and we didn’t have to name it Dalhousie if it was a boy. Talked about how much she missed her job now that we were married. Tried to determine whether or not she and her mother could manage a small trip to Paris in the fall. Wondered if I could get off work next summer for a trip somewhere warm. Trivial stuff.” 

“So no fighting?” Sam repeated. 

“None.” 

“Tell me about yesterday.” 

“When I left at 5 she was still sleeping. Always does. The first month we were married she’d get up while I was in the shower and cook breakfast but most mornings I’d come in to find her asleep at the table and the tea burning on the stove. Convinced her it was in everyone’s best interest if she just slept late instead. So that’s what she does. I leave at 5 and give her a peck on the cheek. She mumbles something into the pillow that I choose to interpret as ‘I love you’ and that’s that.” 

“So the last time you saw her she was asleep?” 

“No,” Pitcairn shook his head. “I had a break yesterday. Sometimes I get those. A block of time between surgeries. I had three hours yesterday so I decided to come home for lunch. Wanted to let her know I had a late bypass to do and wouldn’t be home for dinner. I didn’t want her cooking.” 

“You couldn’t call?” Sam asked.

“The phone isn’t turned on yet. They come next week.” 

“Right,” Sam agreed. “So you come home for lunch and what happens?” 

“She’s in our bedroom surrounded by piles of shoes.” Pitcairn replied with a faint smile. “She looks at me and says ‘would you believe this all started out as a simple attempt at finding a matching pair of sandals?’ I told her that of course I did. Things tended to get out of hand like that when she had a hand in them. While she finished finding her missing sandal I made us a couple sandwiches and we had a quiet lunch. While I was,” Pitcairn blushed slightly again. 

“Go on,” Sam urged. 

“While I was getting dressed later she mentioned that she was meeting some of her former co-workers for a snack around the corner from where she used to work. Then she thought she might go over to her parents to have dinner. Claimed it was better than eating all alone. I told her that if I was going to be early I’d call her parents but otherwise for her to just stay there last night.” 

“Did you call?” 

“No,” Pitcairn shrugged. “Patient had complications, the surgery took longer than I anticipated and we had to open him up again a few hours later. I didn’t make it home until almost 3 am.”

“Was Miranda here?” 

“No,” Pitcairn shook his head. “I just assumed she was still at her mother and father’s.” 

“So the last time you saw Miranda was?” 

“2:30ish Monday afternoon.” 

“Did her parents see her at all?” 

“No.” 

“What about her former co-workers? Did she manage to meet them?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Where did she work?” 

“At Sunshine Village. It’s a home for primarily Southeast Asian refugee orphans. The Sisters at St. Mary’s won’t take them and they don’t really have the facilities for them anyway so Sunshine Village takes them in and allows them to acclimate before they’re placed with loving families.” 

“And what did Miranda do there?” 

“She was a translator,” Pitcairn answered. “Along with working as a contact for organizations inside Southeast Asia as a liaison. She spoke a few of the languages and did quite a bit of the paperwork. She claimed that she did it so that she could play all day long with others at her mental level.” 

“How did you feel about that? Her working I mean.” 

“She loved it,” Pitcairn replied. “She was passionate about her work. I know it upset her to quit once we were married but her father and her Uncle Gene insisted. It broke my heart to take that from her but they were right of course. I make enough to support her and there was no reason for her to work everyday.” 

“I imagine that wasn’t a pleasant argument,” Sam smiled. 

“Does your wife work DI Tyler?” 

“I’m not married,” Sam said thoughtfully. “But everyone I’ve dated has worked for a living. Most of them would have never wanted to give up careers just to stay home all day and cook for me.”

“That’s what Miranda thought,” Pitcairn agreed. “I just hope it wasn’t what led to this.” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Sam tried to sound reassuring. “The Guv and I’ll go over and talk with Miranda’s former co-workers now and try to determine if they met her yesterday. We’ll let you know what we find out.” 

“Thank you DI Tyler,” Pitcairn lifted one side of his mouth in an attempt at a smile. 

“Don’t worry,” Sam patted him on the shoulder. “We will find her.” 

Once he was in the Cortina he glanced over at the Guv. “Well?” 

“Spent the whole weekend shagging each other, he saw her at lunch yesterday for a quickie and she told him she was going to visit some old co-workers and then over to her parents. Parents never saw her and Pitcairn hasn’t talked with any of the people she was supposed to meet before then. She worked at a place called -” 

“Sunshine Village,” the Guv cut in. “I know where it is.”


	3. Chapter Three

Sam stared at the brick building in amazement, it was much smaller than he remembered. He’d seen Sunshine Village before - in 2000 he’d donated his time as a mentor in an attempt to make headway with one of the social workers. She’d turned out to be a lesbian - they developed a strong friendship over love of Mexican food anyway. Meanwhile, Sam had found he was good at reaching out to kids, began to doubt his long held belief that he’d be absolutely rubbish with children, and Sunshine Village had become his one and only ‘hobby’ outside of work. 

“Bunch of hippie do gooders,” Gene snorted derisively as he stared at the long haired young man and a young woman bringing some children up the front steps in columns of two by two. 

“Guv,” Sam rolled his eyes. “You can’t actually have a problem with the people who work at Sunshine Village can you? I mean really Guv, they run a home for war orphans. How much nicer of a group of people can you get?” 

“Molly coddling, nancy arsed poofters,” Gene grumbled. 

“You have a problem with the people who work at Sunshine Village?” Sam shook his head. “Warren was fine but the people here - they’re deviant somehow? You’ve got to explain this Guv.” 

“Bunch of hypocrites,” Gene clarified. “Miranda started working for them and within weeks she’s coming to her father wanting him to donate, donating her own money, grumbling at him and me about how we should come over and donate time. Let the kiddies see that there are good police officers here, that they don’t have to be afraid of the law. Make them feel safe she said.” 

“Not a bad idea Guv,” Sam shrugged. “Sunshine Village is mostly southeast Asian kids right? Most of them were raised in a police state - even you’d complain about police brutality there. Executing people in the street for the slightest suspicions. What does it hurt to show the kiddies that they’re safe here and don’t have to fear the police?” 

“Didn’t complain about that. Even did it once or twice. Came round, brought Chris and Ray and a few of the plonks. Played with the kiddies, let them take some pictures for the paper and John made sure it got wrote up as a good bit of community policing from CID.” 

“So the problem is?” 

“They only wanted Miranda around for her money,” Gene huffed. “Like I said she wasn’t here a few weeks and she was pressuring her father to donate. Paying for trips to those countries out of her own pocket to handle paperwork and orphanage transfers. Miranda worked here for free - out of misplaced love for those kids - and they just used her to get at the money.” 

“Maybe Guv,” Sam couldn’t help but wonder if Gene was right. The Stanley fortune could help Sunshine Village immensely, but somehow it just didn’t meld with the way he knew things were run 33 years later. “Maybe she just chose to pay her own way since she had it? We won’t know until we go inside and talk to them.” 

Sam followed Gene as he slammed the Cortina door shut and then stomped toward the building. At the door his demeanor softened considerably and he put on a pleasant smile. Sam found himself doing the same. 

They stepped inside and immediately began looking for an adult. The sound of children playing assaulted them from somewhere near the left and once Sam oriented himself he realized it was the ‘old gym’ as it was called in his time - probably the only gym currently. “This way Guv.” 

Gene nodded and followed along behind as Sam made his way up the corridor covered in pieces of children’s artwork and into the chaos that was the gymnasium. A woman looked up from her place underneath a pile of smiling children and slowly made her way upright. Once she was free of all but one child clinging to her leg she hobbled over toward them. “Hello!” She announced cheerfully. “Can I help you with something?” 

“Police luv,” Gene announced and flashed his warrant card. “Need to ask you a few questions.” 

“All our paperwork is in order,” the woman said defensively. “Children are all here on legal papers, everyone accounted for and we have more than enough staff per child than required by law.” 

“Not here about that,” Sam answered soothingly. “We actually wanted to talk with you about Miranda Pitcairn.” 

“Miranda?” The woman asked. “What about? She was just here yesterday.” 

“You saw her yesterday?” Gene asked urgently. “What time?” 

“Around four. She brought snacks for all the children and the staff and then left with Ethel.” 

“Ethel?” Sam asked. 

“Ethel Stein. She’s the director of Sunshine Village. She and Miranda are very close.” 

“Where can we find Ethel then?” The Guv asked sharply. 

“Her office,” the woman replied. “She’s been busy over the last week getting things in order for her vacation. She’s trying to get ahead on the paper work.” 

“She’s leaving town?” Sam asked. 

“Trip to New York to see her parents,” the woman replied. “Her father is being given some award and she’s going with her husband to cheer him on.” 

“Where’s Ethel’s office at then?” The Guv broke in. “We’re going to need to talk with her.” 

“Sure,” the woman nodded. “Second door on the right. Just one question though - if you’re with the police why are you here asking about Miranda? She’s all right isn’t she?” 

“Any reason she shouldn’t be?” Sam asked. 

“No,” the woman answered earnestly. “She was just as happy as a clam yesterday. Told us all how much she hated not being here. Missed the kids. But she was her usual self. Todd always called her Little Miss Sunshine because she always lit up a room when she walked in.” 

“Thanks,” Sam nodded and followed Gene out of the gym and into the hallway. Turning he looked at the older man. “So, we have a few more hours in her timeline.” 

“I don’t like that this bird is the last one to see her and now she’s leaving the country. Seems off. ” 

“It could be nothing,” Sam sighed and knocked on the door the moment they reached it. 

“Come in,” a sharply precise voice called out. 

“Mrs. Stein?” Sam asked. 

“That’s me gentlemen,” she answered as she looked up from the stack of paperwork in front of her. “What can I do for you? Standard procedure of course is that whoever has the better job fills out the forms and the other one waits in the hall and you give me some bad lie about just being friends. Law requires it I’m afraid.” 

“We’re not here about an adoption,” Sam stuttered and looked at Gene. He wondered momentarily what Gene would be like as a father. Would he be his usual gruff Guv or would he be more the man Sam had grown acquainted with at home? He’ll be a big softy, Sam decided and then stopped. Was he seriously wondering about raising children with Gene? He must have smacked his head on the headboard harder than he thought last night. He tried to ignore the irrational disappointment he felt at the words as he thought them. 

“Here to talk about Miranda Pitcairn,” the Guv added and flashed his warrant card. “Seems you saw her yesterday?” 

“I did,” she agreed. “Drove her to London so she could catch her plane.” 

“Plane?” Sam asked. 

“Yes, Miranda took the late night flight from London to Rome. Why? Is there a problem?” 

“Well yeah there might be,” Sam answered. “See her husband is still here in Manchester and he didn’t know anything about a trip.” 

“Well of course he’s still in Manchester,” Ethel answered. “She was going with her mother. I wasn’t sure why they couldn’t ride down together but then again I’ve met Miri’s mother and I can’t imagine a week with her in Rome and two trips on a cramped up plane would be very enjoyable either.” 

“Her mother is still in Manchester,” the Guv answered. “Try again.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Miranda’s mother and father reported her missing this morning.” Sam explained. “They didn’t tell us anything about a trip.” 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ethel shook her head. “Miranda phoned me last week from the old house. She told me her and her mother were going to Rome to get away for a while. I joked with her about how I understood needing to get away from your husband and how lucky I was.” 

“Why’s that?” Gene cut in. 

“My husband is a professor like his father. He’s gone frequently giving lectures and attending conferences.” 

“What in?” Sam asked. 

“Mathematics.” 

“Back to Miranda.” The Guv retorted. “She told you she was getting away?” 

“Sure,” Ethel nodded. “Asked if I wanted to share a car to the airport. She got the day I was leaving wrong. Thought I left yesterday instead of Thursday. I told her I’d give her a ride anyway. Didn’t want her taking the train in her condition. Especially with as upset as she’d been recently. Thought the break would do her good.” 

“Upset?” Sam asked. “About?” 

“Lots of things,” Ethel shook her head ruefully. “Her husband made her quit work, being married in general was taking it’s toll on her, usual issues.” 

“There were problems in her marriage?” 

“Some,” Ethel said guardedly and Sam was immediately wary. “Basic newlywed things. We all have the wrinkles to iron out don’t we?” 

“So Miranda told you she was taking a trip to Rome with her mother and you drove her to the airport?” Sam asked, changing the subject away from relationship wrinkles with wives - Gene’s own bitter divorce was still making it’s way through the courts. “Give us a run down of last night.” 

“Sure,” Ethel answered and bit her lip anxiously. “Miranda showed up here about 4 and brought cookies for all the kids. She stayed for snack time with everyone and then we left. It couldn’t have been any later than five because we had time at the airport. We got a bit of dinner in the late night cafe there and then Miranda left for her flight. I stayed in a hotel and then drove home this morning.” 

“What hotel?” Gene asked. 

“The one right there at the airport,” Ethel answered. “The Victoria Suites. Room 45. Lumpy beds and no hot water.” 

“Mind if we check that out?”

“Not at all,” she replied. “Stayed one night, paid in cash but had to sign for the key.” 

“One of your workers said you were leaving town Mrs. Stein?” Sam asked. 

“Yes, Thursday.” She replied. “My father is receiving an award in New York from the Met and then a private gallery showing. He and my mother have asked my husband and I to attend. He wants all the family together for it. Says it’s important.” 

“Private gallery showing?” 

“Yes, he and my uncles have been working tirelessly to arrange the return of certain pieces of family property including artwork that was taken during the war. They succeeded in reacquiring a portrait by Vermeer. ‘Young woman with wildflowers’ it’s called. My father and uncles have decided to lend it to the Met for the next year along with other pieces of art for the public to enjoy.” 

“So you’ll be at this showing at the Met?” Sam asked. 

“Yes, and the reception after. You can contact them in New York if you like and verify the guest list.” 

“Do you have a name for the exhibition so that I can be more concise?” 

“The Weinberg Benefit for Sunshine Village Charities.” She said as she rummaged through her desk and retrieved a card. She handed it to Sam and he saw it was an announcement for the event. “The funds raised from the benefit are going to be split between the seven Sunshine Village Charities currently in operation and also to our sister orphanages for basic supplies. We’re hoping that between the press exposure and the donations we should raise a substantial sum.” 

“How substantial?” Gene asked. 

“We’re hoping to raise about $ 1 million that night. Several of our major donors will attend and my father’s already pledged $250,000 from the family benevolent fund. We’re hoping others are inspired to give big as well.” 

“I see,” Sam nodded. “Well Mrs. Stein thank you for your time. We may need to speak with you again.” 

“Certainly,” she retrieved the card from Sam and scrawled something across the back of it. “That’s my office number,” she pointed to the number at the top. “That’s my home number and address,” she pointed to the next block of writing and at the bottom she pointed again. “That’s the number to reach me in New York. If you need anything please call me. Miranda and I are very good friends and if something’s happened I’d like to know. Hopefully she’ll be home from Rome in a week and everything is fine. There was some mistake of a sort. If that’s the case please have her call me.” 

“Certainly,” Sam agreed. “Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem Inspector,” she nodded. “Chief Inspector. Please just find Miranda. She’s much too wonderful a woman for any harm to come to her. It wouldn’t be right.” 

“We’ll contact you as soon as we know something,” Sam agreed as they left the office and he looked at Gene.

Something didn’t seem right. Ethel had been lying to them, not about taking Miranda to the airport. That had sounded honest to Sam. What had sent warning bells ringing though was how she avoided the topic of Miranda’s marriage. Especially her marital difficulties. When that came up he’d watched as she glanced at Gene and then changed the subject. His gut told him something was wrong with Miranda Pitcairn’s marriage and Ethel Weinberg Stein knew what it was. His knowledge of behavior told him that if there were problems in the marriage kidnapping became less likely as a scenario and they would need to entertain the idea that Miranda had simply taken off with the housekeeping money and went on holiday, permanent or otherwise - he’d wager money that Ethel knew for certain. Neither his gut nor his learning wanted to tell his newest theories to the Guv.


	4. Chapter Four

“Guv,” Sam looked up as he put the phone receiver back on it’s cradle. “Just got off the phone with the London Met. DCI Kinsler will be assisting us while we’re there.” 

“There?” Annie broke in suddenly. “Where?” 

“London,” Sam answered and Gene nodded brusquely before turning on his heel and storming into his office. 

“Didn’t her friend say she just went on holiday?” Annie persisted. 

Sam looked at her patiently. “There’s something off in Ethel Stein’s story. The Guv wants to check it out just in case. Thought we’d go to the airport and see if anyone could remember her. The stewardesses possibly. The late night flights are always pretty empty so we’re hoping someone remembers her getting on the plane. If they tell us she got on the plane on her own, happy and looking for some sun and some ruins in Rome, then the case is closed and we’ll be back that night. If it’s something else though we need to look into it.” 

“Right,” Annie rolled her eyes. “Meanwhile we just fall farther and farther behind because some spoiled little rich girl decided to lark off on a holiday and not get her husband’s permission first.” 

“Permission?” Sam settled back in his chair and looked at her. “You think she should have gotten his permission?” 

“Sam,” Annie set down the files she was holding and shifted her weight onto her right foot. “He is her husband after all.” 

“So?” Sam cocked his head to the side. 

“Well it says here in the notes you took from that Stein woman that she was upset and unreasonable about quitting her job once she got married. Sounds like she’s just decided to throw a temper tantrum and make him suffer a bit. It’s spoiled and irresponsible and it’s a waste of our time that could be better spent looking into real crime.” 

“I’ll allow that it was irresponsible not to at least call someone and let them know where she was and that if that’s the case then yes we could be better utilized working on other cases.” Sam agreed. “I don’t think I would call being upset about being forced out of your job by your spouse unreasonable nor would I suggest that a grown woman was throwing a temper tantrum. In fact, we don’t have any suggestion that she was ‘throwing a tantrum’ as you call it.” 

“Sam,” Annie laughed. “You can quit playing the sensitivity card. I mean I agree completely with what her husband expected from her. There was no reason for her to work after all.” 

“So?” Sam repeated. “Are you actually telling me that being married meant she shouldn’t be working? She was a translator and an administrator. She worked behind a desk. I’ll agree she shouldn’t have done field work, but that’s because the husband mentioned she has asthma not because she’s married. Besides on the strenuous scale of one to ten Miranda Pitcairn’s job at Sunshine Village was a -1 in physical effort.” 

“It doesn’t matter what she was doing,” Annie shook her head. “There was no reason for her to work. She had a husband that could provide for them.” 

“So you’re saying that if you got married you’d quit work?” 

“Well not if I marry someone on the force,” Annie prompted and Sam studiously pretended that he hadn’t caught the hint squarely between his teeth. “They couldn’t afford to provide decently.” 

“And if you married someone outside the force?” Sam asked coolly.

“If he could provide well enough,” Annie seemed flustered. “Someone I went to University with maybe, well then no I wouldn’t work would I? I’d stay home and take care of a house. Raise the children.” 

“And you’d be fine with that?” Sam was incredulous. 

“Well yeah,” Annie was blushing now. “That’s what you do if you’re a girl. You get a job after University until you find a good husband and then you settle down. I couldn’t exactly be a police officer and put myself in danger with kids to raise could I?” 

Sam just looked at her and shook his head. He knew that for all her protestations Annie really was a very traditional girl. He’d realized that during his feeble attempt at dating her. She wanted to be taken to movies and out for ice cream and then left at her front door with a chaste kiss and a coy smile. Six weeks and (Gene had almost wet himself laughing when Sam finally admitted it) he never even managed upstairs outside without her pushing his hands away. He just never realized quite how traditional she could be until this very moment. . 

“It doesn’t matter how she felt about working,” Sam tried to bring them back around to the facts of the case. “What matters is that according to everyone at Sunshine Village Miranda Pitcairn was in good spirits when she was there. Absolutely nothing suggests that she was upset or looking to flee her husband in a ‘tantrum’ as you call it.”   
“Well you don’t actually trust what that woman tells you?” Annie raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Or any of the rest of those people.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sam was truly perplexed by Annie now. 

She shifted what foot her weight rested on and looked awkwardly around. “Well, I mean they aren’t the most honest people.” Annie persisted. “For all we know they might have abducted Miranda themselves. Decided to sell her onwards or something.” 

“What?” Sam barked and tried to keep from laughing at the idea. “What on Earth led you to the conclusion that Ethel Stein, let me rephrase - Ethel WEINBERG Stein, member of one of the richest families in Europe or the States and married into a prominent family of academics would take Miranda Pitcairn hostage and sell her like a piece of cattle? It can’t be money. Ethel’s trust fund interest for one year is larger than the bulk of the Stanley estate and she doesn’t exactly hit me as the type to involve herself in ‘white slavery’ or slavery of any kind for that matter.” 

“Well Sam,” Annie shook her head again. “Those people at Sunshine Village, you know what they are.” 

“People who care about children?” Sam suggested. 

“No,” Annie sighed exasperatedly. “They’re all hippies and,” 

“Hippies and Jews,” a cold female voice broke in and Sam looked up and saw Baxter standing a few feet away holding a file. “The whole lot of them. Just a bunch of hippies and Jews bringing in the little yellow Commie babies.” 

Annie blushed. “Well I wasn’t going to phrase it so rudely,” she said sullenly. “But yes. Sunshine Village is all of that. It’s just wrong. Bringing that somewhere like Manchester where there are decent folks. Better off if they were in London or somewhere else.” 

“Mmm,” Cynthia nodded and Sam’s addled brain was starting to place the pieces together. 

“Annie,” he raised a hand to diffuse the situation before it could get carried away. 

“You know they actually have a Sunshine Village in London? Two in fact,” Cynthia broke in. 

“Really?” Annie’s voice had an edge to it as she replied. 

“Yes,” Cynthia agreed. “Quite nice facilities. Bigger than the one in Manchester.” Turning she shoved a file into Sam’s hands before turning back around to give Annie what Sam knew was a malevolent glare. “By the way, WDC Cartwright,” she said in a voice that made Sam grimace. “We don’t actually steal manky Gentiles. That’s just a rumor. The smell of swine and vinegar is so strong that even when you do get the layers of crusted dirt off them they’re still unbearable to have in the house. Makes the profit margin on selling them into slavery rather low. It’s just much easier, and less messy, to get a dog.” 

He saw Annie’s jaw drop in shock as Cynthia swept regally out of CID. “Well,” Annie huffed. “I never!” 

“You’re right,” Sam shook his head. “On so, so many levels Annie. You never do a lot of things, including think outside your tiny, insulated, bigoted 1973 world view. Which has gotten you exactly what you want WDC Cartwright - you are no longer working the Miranda Pitcairn case. Since you’re so very concerned about crime overtaking the city while we’re looking into a missing woman’s disappearance you instead,” Sam shuffled through the stack of files on his desk. “Will be taking two of the plods and start working the Harriman case. I’ll expect it to be solved with a perpetrator in custody and an airtight case when the Guv and I return from London on Thursday.” 

“That’s the assault that happened at the slaughter house isn’t it?” Annie wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

“That’s the one,” Sam agreed with a tight smile. “Come on Annie, good British girl like you - not upset by the smell of a few pigs being slaughtered or anything. It’s not like you’re,” he jerked his head toward the door Cynthia had just left from, “one of them or anything.” 

“Sam!” Annie protested as he stood up and brushed past her. “Where are you going?” 

“To apologize to Dr. Baxter. You do realize that’s her proper title don’t you Annie? Dr. Baxter? You know from doing more than idly marking four years in the Psychology department and waiting for someone to come along and marry her?” 

“Sam!” Annie stepped back in shock. 

“I’m going to go apologize that she had to hear something that offensive in my presence and that society and my own code of ethics prevented me from punching the person saying it in the mouth because the bigot happened to be a woman. I’m also going to assure her that it had nothing to do with being sacked for it because personally I’d have considered it a worthwhile reason!” Sam retorted as he stormed away. 

At the lift he turned to look at a perplexed Annie. “If that case isn’t solved when I get back from London DC Cartwright you should have your WPC’s uniform pressed and ready to go because you’ll be right back in it before the Guv’s finished his bacon buttie.” 

He knew he’d sounded harsh but right now he was so angry - no Sam corrected, he’d lost to much respect for Annie in the last few months since they’d broken up to be angry at her. How could Annie be so backwards? So out of date? He expected it at times from Gene. The man had no concept of offensive. But Annie, Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t be surprised really. They had broken up shortly after she’d given him her opinion that homosexuality was a nasty, perverted disease - with Sam’s inner monologue urgently reminding him that he’d decided it was safer to stick with the heterosexual aspect of his sexuality in 1973 - and Sam realized that as sweet as she was; as absolutely script worthy right as she was; Annie Cartwright of 1973 was not the girl for him. 

He heard the crashes of thrown books before the doors of the lift opened. Apparently book throwing had always been Cynthia’s form of angry stress relief. Sam tried not to smile, at least he knew what he was walking in to. 

Stepping into forensics he saw the other lab technicians glance fearfully at the closed office door and then angrily at him. “None of your CID evidence is processed yet DI Tyler,” Matthew said coldly. “We’ve been swamped with other cases and it will have to wait in line like the rest. One of us should have it to you within -” 

“Within a week?” Sam suggested disappointedly. 

“I believe we should have it back to you by Friday,” Matthew answered coldly. “It does take time to process though.” 

“Back to that then are we?” Sam shrugged. “Should have expected it.” 

“Quite,” Matthew agreed and Sam could see the others had waves of disapproval radiating off of them. Forensics was a tight knit group within the police force, the geeks of the station it seemed. They stuck together and Cynthia Baxter was their friend and colleague as well as being pampered and spoiled in a brotherly way by all of them. CID was going to suffer gravely for upsetting her. 

“I wanted to come talk with Dr. Baxter,” Sam said warily. “I wanted to apologize for the things our DC said.” 

“Good,” another, more authoritative voice broke in from behind him. Turning he could see Oswald with his hands on his hips, glaring at Sam. “Because if someone doesn’t make this right and very soon DI Tyler then Gene Hunt will simply have to start doing his own autopsies. We, after all, apparently aren’t trustworthy enough. You never know if we’ll steal the body parts and the gold from the teeth.” 

Sam grimaced and then nodded. “You know I don’t agree with her don’t you Oswald?” 

“That’s fine,” Oswald replied. “I didn’t expect you would but that isn’t making Dr. Baxter feel any better right now and that means I am about to be one forensic investigator short. Since it’s Cynthia Baxter that means in reality I’m about five short if she chooses to leave like she suggested a few moments earlier.” 

“Cindyloo isn’t going anywhere,” a gruff voice announced from the outer doorway. Sam watched as Gene swept past both he and Oswald and into her office. Sam looked at Oswald who stared back at him. He heard a heavy crash from inside the office and grimaced. 

“Damn it woman!” Sam heard Gene announce. “How dare you throw a textbook at me? Especially ‘Advanced Topics in Organic Chemical Analysis’! I don’t even know what that crap is! If you’re going to throw a book in my presence at least make sure it’s one I want to read after I’m conscious again!” 

“Go to Hell!” Cynthia screamed. Sam and Oswald both flinched. 

“Look around Cindyloo!” Gene retorted loudly. “We’re here in Manchester with it pissing down freezing rain outside and you in that bulky turtleneck jumper chucking books at me instead of in Tahiti with you and Marilyn Cole frolicking naked in the surf while I lie back and watch while sipping a fruity island drink. That’s as close to Hell as I can think of right now!” 

The room went silent then. Sam looked over at Oswald. Oswald shrugged. “She might have killed him but I think he’d have put up more of a fuss,” the coroner suggested. 

Five minutes later and the room was still silent. Sam took a deep breathe and decided to risk it. Stepping into the office he found Gene propped against her desk, kissing Baxter passionately.

“Um,” Sam stammered before fleeing the room, cheeks burning. 

“Well,” Oswald looked at him impatiently. 

“They’re working things out.” Sam answered before turning to go. What the hell was Gene thinking? Baxter was married! Gene didn’t kiss married women, not even his own wife! Gene didn’t kiss women at all! Gene was only supposed to kiss Sam! And he most certainly wasn’t supposed to be acting out Sam’s most frequent wet dream without him being there to take part! He huffed angrily toward the bogs, pushing the image of the two of them from his mind and willing away the erection that it caused.


	5. Chapter Five

“So,” Sam looked over at Gene as they barreled down the expressway. They were about 20 minutes outside of Manchester and he shifted closer and put his hand on the other man’s knee. “What was that between you and Baxter earlier?” 

“Which part?” Gene grunted as he looked down at Sam’s hand. Leaning back slightly into the seat he let his left hand drop from the steering wheel and on to Sam’s upper thigh.   
“The part where your tongue was down her throat?” Sam hissed. “Hands on her arse that bit. Remember?” 

“Seemed like a good way to shut her up. Get her to quit chucking books at me. Besides, she’ll be much better in the role you’d cast Cartwright in. What did you call it ‘a beard’? With Margaret gone it’ll look funny if I’m not seen chasing at least a bit of skirt. DCI can’t chase the plods without looking like a dirty old man, Baxter meanwhile is safe territory. On par with Oswald as far as running forensics goes, even if she is a slight step down the ladder career wise from me she’s moving up fast. No one can claim I’m pulling the strings because Baxter’s already made her own reputation with the Tiggs case.” Gene looked over. “Besides, it is generally agreed that if a woman with an arse and a set of tits like that is going to be in this station somebody’s hand should be in her knickers. Especially since her husband’s a solicitor for the scum. Looks better for us if I’m the DCI who appears to have his hand in her knickers. No one else will bother the Gene Genie’s bit of arse and no one will even think that I’m shagging my DI with the luscious Dr. Baxter available. Even a DI with an arse like your’s.” 

“Oh,” Sam shook his head. “Didn’t realize you were so perceptive Gene. Could have warned me though. What was I supposed to think walking in there and seeing your tongue down Baxter’s throat?” 

“Can I join you?” Gene suggested. “Might have made things more interesting before she broke out laughing in my face. First words out of her mouth when I let her go is ‘Sam’s going to kill you for this’.” 

“What did she say after that?” 

“My flowers of choice are orchids and not roses. I expect to see mild romantic gestures that are supposed to be hidden from the public or I will not flirt with you or drag you into the supply cupboard to prove your virility Guv. Most importantly - I’m your beard not your bitch. That means I don’t cook, I don’t clean and you fetch my tea not the other way around.” 

“How did you know about the part with Annie then?” Sam decided to test the waters there.

“She came and told me,” Gene answered gruffly. “Complained about you pulling her to the slaughter house case because of a difference in opinion. Got the whole story from her.” 

“Just like that?” Sam asked.

“Thought she was talking to a sympathetic audience,” Gene answered. 

“And?” Sam prompted. 

“Jesus Sam,” Gene pulled his hand away. “I know you think I’m a Neanderthal but I’m old enough to figure out that whole business was just a scare story. Never seen a bunch of children go missing all in a group around Passover. Which it’s no where near by the way. Never had any of that sort of thing happening and I’ve been on the force a long time. What I have seen is girl’s getting hassled and boys taking a kicking on their way home from the Hebrew school over on the other side of Manchester. Seen men being bullied and women being snubbed. Seen plenty of graffitied doors due to the National Front. Seen worse than that even,” Gene muttered darkly. “That was a long time ago though.” 

“Like what?” 

“Did part of my National Service in Palestine,” Gene answered. “Saw enough hate and violence and blood shed to last me and half of Manchester a life time. Did enough things I regret to give 10 of the most die hard war mongers in Parliament nightmares that make them cry like little girls for their mummy. None of it made any sense. Still don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said honestly. 

“Shouldn’t be,” Gene replied. “Weren’t but a boy then, any of us. Didn’t have no say in what happened. Still don’t for the most part.” 

They rode in silence for another hour. Halfway to London they stopped for dinner at a relatively clean chippie. It wasn’t the best Sam had ever eaten but it wasn’t the worst he’d had in 1973 either. Less artery clogging than some, he thought charitably. 

The rain let up and he’d snuggled close to Gene in the car. The other man’s hand was lightly resting on his upper thigh. He’d wanted a dirty weekend away for a while and Gene had never agreed, claiming rightly that they couldn’t both afford to be off work and out of the city at the same time. He’d managed to coax the sullen agreement that they would take one extra day in London, claiming to nail down facts, if it turned out Miranda really had taken herself off to Rome on holiday. He’d heard there was a much livelier gay scene in London and because they were away from home and wouldn’t be recognized Sam was hoping he and Gene might go out and enjoy it.

“You know,” Sam said finally. “We don’t need to bring Baxter in to all of this.” 

“Baxter doesn’t seem to mind. From what I’ve heard that husband of her’s has got a tart at the office. Think she’s planning to play a bit of good for the gander is good for the goose.”

“So you’re going to sleep with her to piss off her husband and make sure the other DCI’s don’t talk about whether or not your gay?” 

“Sam,” Gene shook his head. “I’m not sleeping with Baxter anymore than you’re sleeping with Cartwright. Just going to moon over her a bit, except a bit more masculinely than you ever managed, mention what a good looking bird she is in front of the right people and that will be that.” 

“You don’t have to do that you know,” Sam replied sullenly. “What we’re doing isn’t wrong.” 

“You want to come out?” Gene shook his head. “Be my guest Gladys but when you lose your job don’t come crying to me about it. I’ll be the one they make fire you if they don’t sack me at the same time. So that’s what you want then fine but count me out. I happen to like being able to walk down the street and not take my life into my own hands.” 

“Gene,” Sam moved closer and touched the other man’s leg. He knew that Gene was still nervous about their relationship - not long ago even having a relationship together would have been illegal and if someone wanted to push it then it probably still could be. That didn’t change the fact that Sam still thought like someone from 2006 - and he didn’t see any reason why they couldn’t be open about what they were. 

A hand roughly pushed his away. They drove the rest of the way in silence. They stayed silent during their drink in the hotel bar. They undressed in silence and once in bed Gene turned his back to Sam, something he’d never done before. Sam flounced onto his side angrily and crossed his arms. He felt the bed shift and felt the trembling against his back. Rolling over he wrapped his arms around Gene’s stiff form and held tight. Snuggling his face into the other man’s hair he kissed the back of his neck chastely and lay still. For once in his life Sam Tyler just stayed silent and let a problem lie unresolved. Sometime in the night Gene shifted and Sam woke up to the early sunbeams poking through their window, happily realizing they were a mess of tangled limbs intertwined about each other. 

“I love you,” Sam whispered to the sleeping man in his arms. 

He pulled out of Gene’s grasp and wriggled out the bottom of the bed before making his way to the ensuite bath. Turning the shower on he let the hot water pour down over him and began to hum. The Beatles, he thought to himself and it wasn’t their ode to Lucy. He’d never been much of a fan of that one no matter how much Gene assumed otherwise. 

“Oh I’ll tell you something,” Sam sang loudly as he stepped from the shower. “I think you’ll understand. When I say that something, I want to hold your hand.” 

“What are you caterwauling about in there Sam?” Gene grunted from the main room. 

“Oh please say to me,” Sam sang louder. “You’ll let me be your man. And please say to me,” Gene leaned against the door jab to stare at him. “You’ll let me hold your hand.” 

“You,” Gene lit a cigarette and stood there naked, absently puffing away as he let his gaze linger on Sam. “Have become a full fledged, singing, fairy poof.

“I want to hold your hand.” Sam batted his eyelashes dramatically as he sang the last note, trying his best to make Gene laugh. 

Gene shook his head and rolled his eyes. “At least you picked a decent song to serenade me with this morning.” 

Letting the towel drop he pushed naked up against Gene. He leaned in for a deep kiss. There was no way Gene would ever let him apologize properly for what had happened last night. No way it would ever be discussed again. He knew he’d been forgiven when Gene’s left hand reached out and intertwined it’s fingers with his own. 

“Morning,” he murmured in the other man’s ear as he pulled him back to sit on the bed and then sank onto his knees in front of him, leaning forward to slide his tongue along Gene’s inner thigh and then pulling back with a wicked grin.

“Mmm,” Gene agreed as he tilted his head back and carded his hands through Sam’s hair. “Supposed to be questioning the hotel staff.” 

“Shut up,” Sam replied and then licked up the length of Gene’s cock. “Busy with other things. Prioritizing.” 

“Prioritizing?” Gene asked. Sam decided for the first time in a while that there had been entirely too much talking for his liking. Glancing up he gave Gene a sly smile and then wrapped his lips around Gene’s cock. 

Gene started to moan quietly and shifted his hips. Sam hollowed his cheeks and sucked faster as the hand in his hair began to push at the back of his head, listening to Gene gasp and moan. The fingers in his hair clenched tightly as Gene grunted and Sam swallowed convulsively as the other man came. 

He shuffled backwards as Gene reached for him. “Have hotel employees to interview,” he said with a quick smile. “Get dressed.” 

“Dressed?” He watched as Gene raked hungry eyes over his body. “What happened to your prioritizing?” 

“Let’s see,” Sam slid into his trousers and placed his left hand on his hip and put up his right index finger. “Make your brain leak out your ears, check.” He held up a second finger. “Question witnesses is next on the list.” He put a third finger. “Come back to the room and fuck each other blind. Yep, I think the my to-do list is firmly established for the day.” 

“Sounds like a busy day,” Gene agreed as he began buttoning the green shirt that Sam adored him in. He saw Gene’s fingers falter at the collar. “About last night Sam,” he started. 

“Never mind,” Sam said as he pushed into Gene’s arms. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“You know I,” Gene dropped his forehead to rest against Sam’s. 

“I know,” Sam agreed into his neck.


	6. Chapter Six

“So this woman did stay here?” Sam asked the young man behind the hotel desk. “Monday night she stayed here?” 

“Yeah,” the man nodded. “Paid cash for the room, signed for the key. Would you like to see her signature on the registration card?” 

Sam nodded and the man thumbed through a pile of cards before retrieving one and sliding it along the desk so Sam could inspect it. Plain as day at the bottom was the signature Ethel Stein. “Was she alone?” 

“Yes,” the clerk said confidently. 

“How do you remember so well?” The Guv asked as he stubbed out his fag in the ashtray and fixed the clerk with a glare. 

“That ring on her finger,” the clerk shrugged. “She had it turned around so you couldn’t see the diamond but I caught a glance of it when she signed for the key. Made the comment to Agnes,” he jerked his head toward the back of the hotel. “That a woman with that big of a ring on her finger didn’t check into a hotel alone unless she was meeting someone other than her husband. Made a bet that some man would show up wanting to know what room she was in before midnight. Lost a fiver on it.” 

“She was alone all night?” 

“Alone when she checked in, alone when she stopped by the desk and asked where she could find a decent cup of coffee, alone when she checked out an hour later.” The clerk confirmed. 

“Seems like she stuck out in your mind more than a fiver would account for,” the Guv said skeptically. 

The clerk looked around the empty lobby and then leaned closer. “Her accent was quite memorable,” the clerk shrugged. “If you haven’t met her then I must tell you it isn’t exactly soothing to the ears. Seemed a shame that such a voice was coming out of such a lovely young woman.” 

“Lovely young woman?” Sam smirked. 

“If you haven’t met her yet gentlemen,” the clerk smirked. “I highly suggest being clumsy fingered and dropping a pen or two.” 

“Why is that?” Sam tried his hardest not to roll his eyes at the young man. 

“She has a smashing arse.” 

“Ok,” Gene shrugged as they walked out of the hotel lobby and toward London airport. “Ethel Stein was here like she told us. Think anyone will remember her at the airport?”   
Sam yawned. “We should get there just before the night shift leaves for the morning. By the time we get done with the ticketing agents then the stewardesses should be back from the night haul.” 

“Christ it’s early,” the Guv yawned. 

“Yeah but if it turns out Ethel’s story is true then we have all day to sleep in, call back and tell them we’re running down a few more leads to confirm the story and we’ll be back on Friday instead of tomorrow.” 

“Still early,” the Guv shook his head. 

Sam smiled and then stepped toward the ticket desk and flashed his badge. “Excuse me Miss? Can we speak to you for a few moments?” 

“Sure officers,” she smiled pleasantly. “What can I do for you?” 

“Are you always this pleasant in the morning luv?” The Guv glared at her. 

The perky blonde leaned over toward Gene and Sam noticed that she managed to flash the Guv a fair amount of cleavage at the same time. “Can I tell you a secret officer?” 

“Hmm?” Sam tapped his fingers against the desk as Gene’s eyes fixed on the woman’s open neckline. 

“Promise not to arrest me?” She flirted. 

“Cross my heart,” Gene agreed without looking up and Sam sighed. 

“We keep a bottle of Vodka in the back and mix it with the orange juice around 2. If I wasn’t at least half pissed there is simply no way I could deal with these wankers all night long.” 

Gene let out a surprised laugh and Sam rolled his eyes. This was the reason they had such serious security measures in place in 2006. Apparently taking your job seriously hadn’t been a requirement in the age before air terrorism. 

“See these two women on Monday night luv?” Gene asked. 

She glanced down at the pictures of Ethel Stein and Miranda Pitcairn placed in front of her. “Seen a lot of people since Monday night officers.” She shrugged. 

“Would have been late,” Sam persisted. “One of the women took a red eye on Monday. That help?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “It does. That woman,” she pointed to Miranda’s picture. “She and another woman checked in together. High end luggage in her case and one of those green duffel’s in the other woman’s case.” 

“No luv,” Gene shook his head. “Wrong girls. Think again.” 

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m sure of it. Because the bags stuck out in my mind. This woman,” she pointed at Ethel’s picture. “She stood back from the ticket counter and waited for them. Kept looking around all nervous like.” 

“Why did the bags stick out?” Sam asked.

“Well you don’t see many women carrying them,” the woman replied. “Either set. This woman,” she pointed at Miranda. “Well she had this nice matched leather luggage. Looks like something you’d pick up on Bond Street. The other one, well we see a lot of those bags but they aren’t attached to girls.” 

“Green duffels?” Sam shook his head. 

“You mean an army duffel?” The Guv asked. 

“That’s it,” the girl pointed. “Looked authentic too. Worn in, writing on it. Stamped even.” 

“Remember the stamp?” The Guv asked. 

“USMC, that’s why it stuck out. Only person I’ve ever seen carrying those are crew cuts with a stick up the arse. You know full pressed and everything?”   
“See what this woman looked like?” 

“Yeah,” the girl laughed. “Absolutely gorgeous. Half the men in the airport were drooling down their fronts when she went by. Hold on, my desk partner checked her in you can ask him. Charles!” 

Sam watched as a young man walked out and looked at them warily. “Something wrong Clare?” 

“These two men are police officers,” she nodded toward Sam and Gene. “They were asking about those women who came through on Monday night.” 

“Women?” 

Sam held up the pictures for him to see. “Right,” he nodded. “Came through late. That one,” he pointed at Ethel, “she stood back from the counter and kept shifting her weight like she was nervous. That one,” he pointed to Miranda, “Clare checked her in.” 

“What about the woman she was with?” Sam asked. 

“Her?” He smiled. “Army duffel? Made my night she did.” 

“How’s that?” Guv asked. 

“Long red hair, green eyes, legs up to her tits and those,” the guy rolled his eyes expressively. 

“Put together all right was she?” The Guv nodded. 

“More than all right,” he agreed. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have gotten Miss More Than All Right’s name did you?” Sam asked exasperated.

“Nah,” Charles shook his head. “Couldn’t have understood her even if I’d have asked. Had one of those voices.” 

“That’s right,” Clare broke in. “I heard the other one,” she pointed to Ethel’s picture, “talking. They had the same accent.” 

“They had an accent?” Sam persisted. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It stuck out. Not real soothing or anything. Not like your’s,” she leaned closer to Gene and ran her fingers suggestively up his arm. “Bet you could get a girl right off to sleep with that voice of yours.” 

“Knocks me out like a light every time he starts rambling on,” Sam confirmed testily. 

“I get off in ten minutes,” she smiled at Gene.

“Do you?” He chuckled. 

“We have a missing woman to find,” Sam glared at the tart trying to drape herself across Gene. “Don’t we GUV?” 

“Huh?” Gene looked at him. “Right, missing woman. Sorry luv.” 

“Luck,” her smile slipped slightly as Sam picked up the photos and dragged Gene away. 

“Think you can roll your tongue back in your mouth?” Sam snarked. 

Gene glanced over at him. “Jealous Gladys?” 

“No,” Sam shrugged. “You want to make a fool out of yourself over some tart at the airport be my guest.” 

“So what’s this accent they keep talking about my boy wonder?” Gene changed the subject quickly. “Hotel clerk and the ticket guy both mentioned the accent. Ethel Stein didn’t have an accent as far as I can tell.” 

“Sounded pretty posh,” Sam agreed. “Wait a second,” he rolled his head back. “It’s a put on.” 

“A put on?” 

“She’s a New Yorker,” Sam replied. “Wonder how many elocution lessons it took to get rid of the accent? Wonder if we can run down what part of the city she’s from?” 

“I’m not following,” Gene looked at him. 

“When I was first on the beat,” Sam bounced excitedly. “I dated a girl who was over here studying from New York.” 

“So?” 

“She kept trying to mimic how I talked,” Sam smiled at the memory. 

“Why?” 

“Because she hated how she talked. I thought it was adorable but she hated it. She was always self conscious about it though so she always made sure to pronounce everything correctly. Sounded real posh like.” 

“And your point?” Gene looked at him. “Besides reminiscing about ex girlfriends?” 

“If she was tired or around someone else from back home her accent always slipped. Out it would come in full force. She couldn’t help it. Unless she consciously kept a rein on her accent it would just come right out. I bet that’s what happened with Ethel Stein. Whoever the red head is, she’s from the same neighborhood and they just couldn’t help it.”

“What part of New York was this bird of your’s from then?” Gene shrugged indifferently. 

“Brooklyn. And let me tell you - soothing was not how you would describe the way she ordered a pastrami on rye with extra thousand island.” 

“There are the stewardesses,” the Guv pointed to a group of women rolling their luggage out from behind a doorway. “Excuse me ladies?” He called out. 

“Can we help you Sir?” A tiny brunette in the front asked. 

“Police,” Sam flashed his warrant card. 

“Step back inside the flight lounge?” The brunette asked. 

“Sure,” the Guv agreed and followed the group of women back through the door and into a small lounge. Taking out the two pictures he set them on a small table. “Seen these two Monday night?” 

“This one,” a blonde from the back pushed forward and pointed at Miranda. “Not the other one. She was with another woman. I waited on them all night Monday night. Flew first class. Drank nothing but water and orange juices.” 

“Stick out for any real reason?” Sam asked. 

“Only ones in first class,” she answered. “That and they were holding hands all night. The other woman, she asked for a cold compress for the woman in the picture’s head.” 

“She was sick?” Sam asked. 

“Redhead told me her friend got air sick, the turbulence was making her stomach churn. Felt sorry for her.” 

“So they were on the flight to Rome then on Monday night?” 

“Rome?” She looked at him. “No the return flight from Rome won’t be back for another hour officers. Monday night I flew out to New York.” 

“New York?” The Guv repeated. 

“I flew out of Boston,” another answered. 

“Miami,” a third replied. 

“What do you mean the return flight from Rome isn’t back yet?” Sam asked. 

“We run two flights to Rome,” the brunette answered. “An 8:30 and a red eye. Turnaround on the 8:30 flies back into London at 7 am and turnaround on the red eye flies back in at 9. The stewardesses for the red eye from Rome won’t be back until 9 officers.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” the blonde said stubbornly. “Those two women weren’t on a flight to Rome. They were in my first class on a flight to New York City. I’m certain of it because I told the sick one,” she pointed at the picture of Miranda. “That the best place to find decent tea in New York was inside Macy’s.” 

“So what did she say?” Sam asked. 

“She turned and looked at the other woman and asked if they were going to be anywhere near Macy’s.” 

“And?” The Guv asked impatiently. 

“Woman told her she could take the subway and she could be there within about fifteen minutes. Told her there was a bakery just down from their flat that was just as good. Gave me the name for it.” 

“And?” Sam asked. 

“Tea was excellent,” she smiled. 

“Wonderful, I’m glad you had a lovely cuppa,” the Guv snapped. “Any idea where it was?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Little place in the Village. Just off Christopher Street. Near Washington Square Park.” 

“Thanks,” Sam gave her a tight smile. “Appreciate your help ladies.” He pulled Gene out of the lounge as the man continued to shake his head. 

“I don’t understand this,” he muttered. 

“She lied to us Guv,” Sam shook his head. “I know it’s not the first time this has happened to you.” 

“But why is Miranda doing this? A trip to New York with a red head woman? Having her friend lie and say she was going to Rome if we came asking because trust me that was entirely Miranda’s story. She and her mother go to Rome for a girl’s week every year or so. She likes to look at the art and her mother likes to shop. So whatever Ethel Stein told us, it’s what Miranda told her to say.” 

“You think she knows more than she’s saying?” Sam asked. 

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she and the other woman appear to be from the same town and that’s where Miranda took a flight too. Hate to say this Sam,” he stepped closer. 

“We’re not going to enjoy any night life while running down leads?” Sam nodded. “I didn’t expect we would.” 

“You’re not disappointed?” Gene bumped Sam’s shoulder with his own. 

“Case is more important,” Sam answered. “You’ll just owe me a wild time once it’s solved and your god daughter is home safe and sound.” 

“Wild night huh? Take you out and get you pissed?” 

“I was thinking more private,” Sam winked cheekily. “You, me, bottle of scotch, nice big bed.” 

“I think I can oblige that,” Gene nodded. “Since you’re willing to be such a cheap date.” 

Sam swatted his arm playfully and then stepped slightly away from him. “Back to the hotel to check out and then back to Manchester?” 

“Beautiful Manchester,” Gene agreed. “Didn’t realize how much I’d miss her trashy streets if I was gone.” 

“Any idea what we do now?” Sam asked. 

“A few,” Gene retorted. “None of them are good though.”


	7. Chapter Seven

“Ethel,” Sam opened her office door without knocking. “Need to have a word.” 

“Took you long enough,” she sighed as she hung the phone receiver back in its cradle. 

“Not the words of an innocent woman Ethel,” Sam replied. 

“I didn’t break any laws Inspector,” she smiled. “I’m sure you know that.” 

“You lied to the police.” 

“I helped a friend leave her abusive husband and lied to her godfather to give her more time to get away.” 

“Pardon?” Sam said as he sat across from her. 

“There’s no law against leaving your husband Inspector Tyler.” 

“Let’s start at the beginning Ethel and you can explain this to me.” 

“Look,” Ethel frowned slightly. “If I had my way I’d have told you when you first came to my office two days ago. But Miranda made me promise I’d do exactly what she asked.” 

“Exactly what she asked?” Sam prompted. 

“Said if I didn’t send her Uncle Gene in the wrong direction for a bit she’d never have the time to hide properly.” 

“What’s she hiding from?” 

“Her husband.” Ethel grimaced. “He was beating her.” 

“Why not just divorce him?” Sam suggested. “Go home to her parent’s house. Not like he was going to get at her there.” 

“Her parent’s knew about it. Told her it was just part of a marriage and to just get herself on back home and quit giving him a reason to get mad.” 

Sam sighed and looked over at Ethel. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that sentiment here in 1973. It wasn’t an original sentiment when he’d heard it first here in 1973 - he’d heard it plenty in 2006 as well. That didn’t mean it disgusted him any less hearing it now. “So, Dr. Pitcairn was beating Miranda and she didn’t think she could go home? Why not file for divorce and go live with a friend?” 

“She was afraid of him,” Ethel answered. 

“And running off to New York was going to help?” 

“She thought it would be safer once she found this,” Ethel answered and then stood. Walking over to the closet she opened it and then leaned down to open a decent sized safe inside. Once it was open she removed a large packing carton and set it on the desk. “She went to New York because of this. The contents made her understandably nervous that perhaps Andrew wouldn’t be kind to her should he realize she knew of it’s existence.” 

“What’s this?” Sam asked. 

“Evidence that Miranda found that her husband Andrew is the Canalside Slasher.” 

“What?” Sam knew his jaw was hanging open. The Canalside Slasher had been targeting Manchester’s working girl population for the past five years. Fourteen prostitutes found dead, throats slashed and internal organs removed, the bodies then sawed in half and dumped in the canal. They had absolutely no leads. 

“It’s all inside the box Inspector Tyler,” she shuddered visibly. “You may want to arrange to have it refrigerated, my safe is temperature and humidity controlled but it certainly isn’t a freezer. Miranda said she thought they might be preserved but I didn’t exactly want to open it and investigate thoroughly.” 

Sam looked at her before taking one of her pens and pushing the crate open. He reeled back in horror. “Are those?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded and turned her head to the side. “They are.” 

“Those are human organs,” Sam swallowed as he looked in again. 

“There are also some of Andrew’s clothes covered in blood and um,” she glanced at the box again before turning away. “Other trophies that have labels on them.” 

“Trophies?” Sam asked. 

“Pieces of clothing, jewelry. Personal effects. Apparently he kept thorough notes about the procedure. Those are in there as well.” She nodded. “Do you mind,” she gestured faintly at the door. 

“No,” Sam shook his head and tried not to stare at the box. He stepped outside the office and closed the door firmly. When she returned with two glasses of water he could see a faint sheen on her forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just not very good with that sort of thing.” 

“It’s understandable,” Sam answered. “I’ll radio in to have a forensics team come retrieve it for processing. I’ll also need you to come with me to the station. We’re going to need everything on the record about what Miranda told you.” 

“Sure,” Ethel agreed. “Just let me tell the others I’ll be out of the building. Should I arrange for a lawyer?”

“No,” Sam said. “Of course you can if you want but you aren’t a suspect. We just need to know what Miranda told you.” 

“Sure,” she nodded. “I’ll just let the others know I’ll be gone for awhile.” 

Ethel Stein’s story was simple, Sam decided after he and Chris had finished questioning her. Andrew Pitcairn had kept a workshop in their flat, a spare room off the back that he’d rented out for just a bit extra, and had always told Miranda not to bother with cleaning it. He hadn’t kept it locked and she had followed his instructions. During the months of their marriage though she had noticed a trend. He would become silent, withdrawn and violent for a week. Then he would be gone for several nights in a row, claiming to work late shifts at the hospital. After another week of this he’d come home relaxed, spend some time in his workshop and life would return to it’s normal honeymoon like existence. Being a copper’s daughter, Miranda had gotten suspicious by the second month. 

“She thought he was having an affair,” Ethel had smiled. “Had a girlfriend or something. Then they started moving things into the new house.” 

That’s where things had gotten messy, Sam thought to himself listening to the tapes again. Miranda Pitcairn had gotten a sudden burst of energy while packing the house and decided to go ahead and pack her husband’s workshop for him. That’s when she’d found the chest freezer and the sleeper trunk beside it. It hadn’t taken long for her to piece together her husband’s violent tendencies had coincided with the disappearance of each of the Canalside Slasher’s latest victims. 

“That’s when she came up with the idea to go missing,” Ethel shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know anything until Monday night besides she was leaving him. I knew she and Natalie had gotten close while they worked together here and she told me they were getting away for a bit. I’d arranged Natalie’s transfer back home to New York so I knew where they were going. She showed up Monday with the cookies and a ‘box of files’ for me. I put the box in my safe, we had snacks with the children and then we left.” 

“What happened then?” Sam asked. 

“We went to Natalie’s and picked her up. She’d had her last day at Sunshine Village in Manchester the Friday before. I took them to the airport in London, they got on the plane for New York and I stayed at the hotel and returned home on Tuesday.” 

“Why did you lie to the Guv then?” Chris asked. “Why not tell him straight away?” 

“Miranda told me not to tell them anything until at least 48 hours after she’d left,” Ethel answered. “She wanted plenty of time to get away. If Andrew realizes what she took from him and her father told him where she’d went, he’d have gone after her before you had enough to stop him.” 

“She wanted time?” Sam suggested. “But you know where they are?” 

“I can’t tell you that,” Ethel argued. “Not for certain. I arranged a transfer for Natalie but if she chooses not to take the job then I have no idea where they’d go.” 

“Why don’t you tell us where they’re going luv?” Chris broke in. “We’re the police after all.” 

“That,” Ethel replied coldly, “was exactly who got her into this mess.”


	8. Chapter Eight

“Guv,” Sam announced as he knocked on the other man’s door. “We got something from Ethel.” 

“I heard,” Gene nodded. “Forensics called to tell us they retrieved the box and they’re processing it now. Have a preliminary report for us and I waited for you to go and get it.”   
“Tell you what was in the box?” Sam asked as he followed Gene into the corridor and toward the lift. 

“Yeah,” Gene nodded. “Pretty conclusive they said. Just need to do a more thorough analysis to tie up the loose ends. What did the bird say?” 

“Said Miranda was afraid someone would tip Pitcairn off before she got well hid if you found everything out too early. Thought he’d skip the country and come looking for her.” 

“Not likely to happen now is it?” Gene replied. 

“She was scared Guv.” 

“Found the vital organs of fourteen dead prozzies in a chest freezer in her husband’s workshop. Scared is not a word I think should be used for it. More likely she was utterly terrified. What I don’t understand is why she didn’t come to me?” Gene sounded offended at the thought. 

“According to Ethel she went home the first time he beat her up, said her parents sent her right back to him. Claimed it was all part of being married and she should,” Sam grimaced. “She should quit making him mad.” 

“I’m going to make him mad,” Gene grunted. “I’m going to bloody well enrage him when I get the chance.” 

Sam nodded again and stepped into forensics a pace behind Gene. “Cindyloo!” The Guv roared in disapproval. “You’re not working this are you?” 

“Hello Guv,” she smiled brightly. “What’s someone as handsome as you doing in a place like this? Come down to break my heart?” 

“You’re not working on this are you?” Gene wrinkled his nose and then looked around once, noticed another tech watching them from a side room and winked at Sam, then leaned down to plant a light kiss on Cynthia’s cheek. “The Canalside Slasher case?” 

“What’s a few internal organs between friends?” She teased and shot Sam an awkward smile. He smiled back to silently signal her that he knew the favor she was doing for him and Gene. “Oswald requested it actually. We’re touching into my specialty.” 

“Your specialty?” Sam said cautiously as Gene planted a hand ‘discreetly’ at her back. 

“Experimental forensic chemistry,” she nodded before pushing Gene’s hand away and shooting a ‘warning’ glance toward the tech in the other room. “He wants me to first determine exactly what process he might have used to dessicate the organs and then what solution he used to preserve them like they are. I’m thinking something basic. Possibly a simple NACl bath for the dessication and then maybe formaldehyde for the preservation? Once I’m sure, then I get to try and replicate his results. It’s absolutely fascinating.” 

“You’re going to start slashing open prozzies and treating their livers Cindyloo?” Gene looked at her. “What happened to all the nice girls in the world?” 

“No,” she shook her head. “Oswald’s called over to the medical school and they sent me some organs to work with. Although he must not have been too specific because they sent things I really don’t need along. Oh well, it will allow me to model other conditions. Could make an interesting paper.” 

“What all did they send you?” Sam asked, perversely curious. 

“Exactly what we had in the evidence box.” Cynthia shrugged. “Two complete sets of kidneys, three hearts, four livers, a pituitary gland, one length of small intestine and a completely intact uterus. Oh and if he decides to switch to rent boys instead of girls then I can replicate that as well - they sent me two complete sets of male genitalia.” 

Sam looked over at Gene who was blushing and felt his own face flare. “You’re sending those back surely?” Gene stuttered. 

“No,” Cynthia answered. “I thought I’d go ahead and use them as further testing. Once I determine the compounds used it should work the same on the penis and testicles as it did on the other organs.” 

“All right Dr. Baxter,” Sam broke in. “Before we go off onto the wonders of scientific experimentation on the human body. Why don’t you tell us exactly what you know about the case at hand?” 

“Sure,” she hopped off the high stool she’d been sitting on and reached for a manila folder. “This is how your case breaks down so far. Whoever did the cataloging on this evidence is extremely thorough. All organs have been kept in hospital grade specimen containers. Each are tagged with an identification number and a date. We have 2 specimens marked as 1’s, and one each of 2,4,5,6,7,8,10,11,12,14. We’re missing specimens 3,9, and 13. Beneath that in the box we found police evidence bags each containing different items. Each bag is also cataloged with an identification number and a corresponding date. We have seven items labeled 1, 2, 5, 7, 11, 13, 14. All of those that have matches in the organs also have the same corresponding date. Beneath that in the box we found the only things that weren’t cataloged properly. In a rubbish bag we found one pair of men’s shoes size 14, a pair of black trousers, white Y fronts, a white vest, a black button down shirt and a green apron. All of them covered in some form of reddish substance.” 

“Substance is confirmed to be human blood,” the forensic tech from the other room announced as he walked in. He looked at Gene curiously as the Guv returned his hand possessively to Cynthia’s back. He looked over at Sam then and raised his eyebrows. Sam just shrugged slightly in return. 

“There you go,” Cynthia replied. “All covered in human blood. In another bag all it’s own, taped up was the final pieces of evidence. One surgical kit, no foreign substances found on it and a B.A.K.” 

“B.A.K.?” Sam asked. 

“Big Arsed Knife,” Gene replied absently. 

“Serrated edge, also cleaned with no foreign substances present,” Cynthia confirmed. “Looks like something my mother uses to carve up a turkey. My guess is that if these were your murder weapons and the tools of dissection they were autoclaved afterwards.” 

“Besides that, all I have is a hypothesis about how he preserved the organs. Oswald is attempting to match remains to victims as we speak and then he’s going to arrange an exhumation order for further testing. Matthew and Will are currently attempting to match samples taken from the organs to any traces that they might find on the other articles. Blood perhaps. Once the typing is done they’ll then try to match it with any samples they can retrieve from the bloody clothes.” 

“So what’s your hypothesis?” Sam prompted. “Give us something to go on.” 

“Your killer works in medicine. I know you have a suspect and I really don’t want to know who it is yet. My guess is, whoever it is, it’s a nurse, or a doctor or a vet even. Someone comfortable taking apart bodies.” 

“A butcher?” Gene suggested. 

“No, this isn’t butchery,” she shook her head. “Oswald and I’ve discussed this. These organs were removed entirely intact and then preserved carefully. Those sorts of skills, they aren’t taught to butchers. Butchers sell meat, they don’t preserve organs by dessication and then injecting them with chemicals. The only other possibility I could think of would be a taxidermist but even then my hypothesis is still someone who knows anatomy. Male, obviously, a female couldn’t have committed these crimes, she wouldn’t have the upper body strength for the attack suggested in the autopsy. Much less for the bisection later. I can’t tell you anything more than that though. Oh and whoever they are - they have laboratory experience. It may not be extensive because their filing system isn’t very advanced but they do have some understanding of specimen cataloging.” 

“Thank you,” Sam smiled at her. “Cindy this is more than we could have ever expected.” 

“You did good St. Cindyloo,” the Guv nodded. “I’ll allow you to buy me a drink later if you’re feeling up to it.” 

“Thought of that already,” she smiled and walked over to her desk. Moving aside a stack of files she picked up a box of pink wafers and tossed them to Gene. “The whiskey chaser on account then?” She looked over her shoulder at the studiously busy lab technician and leaned in closer. “Your place perhaps?” 

“You are a classy bird,” the Guv replied and winked as Sam watched the tech gape at them like a fish. When they got to the door he turned around to look at Baxter. “Baxter? The bit you said about those extra parts?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You aren’t actually going to do it are you? Preserve some blokes wedding tackle in a specimen jar?” 

“Why not?” She snickered. “Not like he’s going to need it for anything else. Not like those have much of a useful purpose anyway if you think about it.” 

“Hmm,” Gene cocked his head to the side and smirked at Sam. “I’ll have to remember that.” 

Sam saw his own flinch mirrored in the Guv’s reaction and followed him out of forensics. “Sounds like Miranda has Pitcairn banged up good and proper then?” Sam suggested as they walked back to the lift. 

“Not enough to arrest him though,” Gene shrugged. “Not with a picky pain DI banging on about evidence.” 

“You’re worried about evidence?” 

“He’s a surgeon Sam. Got money. Father in law is the police commissioner. I want no wiggle room on this.” 

“Yes Guv,” Sam nodded. “So what do you want to do now?” 

“I’m going to go see John. Tell him Miranda’s suspicions and that we think she might have been on to something. Let him know we’re investigating Pitcairn but not ready to arrest. I want you to put a team on Pitcairn. We’re on him night and day with that surveillance you love so much.” 

“Sure,” Sam agreed. “We watch and wait for him to slip up.” 

“Meanwhile, you’re in charge here while I take a little trip.” 

“A trip?” 

“That evidence screams fit up if we don’t have Miranda to say where she found it.” Gene answered. “Besides, I know where she’s at now. I’ll need to reassure her parent’s she’s all right.” 

“You’re going to make her come back?” Sam asked. 

“I’m going to explain to her that the threat is well in hand once I’ve determined she’s all right.” Gene replied. “If she doesn’t want to come home until that bastard’s banged up far away then I’ll make sure she’s got precautions in place until it’s time for her to come home and testify against him.” 

They stepped into the lift and when it closed Sam waited a few moments before hitting the emergency stop button. “You’re going without me?” 

“I need someone I trust here running the investigation,” Gene countered. 

“How long?” Sam grimaced. 

“Three days you poof,” Gene shook his head. “A week at most. You can run this team for that long. Carling will keep them in line for you.” 

“It’s Carling I’m worried about,” Sam answered as Gene pulled him close for a kiss. He felt that warm hand pressed into his back and tried to forget where it had just been pressed. Gene was doing this to keep them safe, Baxter was doing this to keep them safe, therefore Sam wasn’t allowed to be jealous about it and he most especially shouldn’t be aroused by the prospect. 

“Stop being such a jessie,” Gene said as he pulled away and then pushed the button to restart the lift. 

“I’ll miss you,” Sam said and tried his hardest to keep what he knew was a pout from his voice. 

“I’ll miss you too Gladys,” Gene smirked. “But we’ll discuss it at home eh? Not here at the station. Besides with the performance Cindyloo just gave that nosy little lab git everyone will expect her to be the lonely one while I’m gone not you.” 

“Yes Guv,” Sam nodded. Gene was right of course, Sam knew. They didn’t discuss their life together at work, they kept it firmly in the background and didn’t let it interfere. (Except for this weird attempt to use Baxter to salvage the Guv’s masculine image within the department and Sam didn’t really want to contemplate that.) Even if that meant Sam spent his first week since coming here without Gene. He fought down the childish panic gripping at him. He’d be fine. He was a grown man after all, a DCI in his own right. He didn’t need Gene Hunt to stick around and scare the bogey man away in the night, Sam lectured himself. It didn’t make the prospect of returning to an empty bed any more appealing though. 

Maybe he should take up with Baxter. Keep her from being ‘lonely’. What was it Gene had called it? A bit of what’s good for the gander is good for the goose. Except Sam knew he had more important plans for this evening. Something important that couldn’t be done when Gene was around. He patted the inner pocket of his jacket and was comforted to feel the picture there.


	9. Chapter Nine

Sam flipped his collar up and hugged the worn leather of his jacket closer to his body as he crossed the dark street. No one here would recognize DI Sam Tyler for what he was except the person he was coming to see. Everyone else knew him, or knew of him he should say, they just didn’t know what he really was. Just knew that he was Aurora’s regular white knight. The pathetic, sorry sod who thought he could be Prince Charming. 

Aurora, Sam thought to himself as he nodded toward the doorman stationed in front of the block of flats. The little girl who wasn’t born yet. The one who shouldn’t be here, trapped, inside his mind or back in time or whatever this was. His little match girl with the saucer sized eyes. The fairy tale princess inside his mind that no matter what Sam Tyler just couldn’t fucking save. 

“I’m here to see Rory,” he told the man behind the reception counter and tried not to grimace at the shortened version of her name. In his mind it was always Aurora, the fairy princess trapped against her will, not Rory the girl who worked in this place. 

“Right,” the man nodded. “Out call. Not your usual day. She’s not available just yet.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Should be just a few more minutes. Why don’t you have a drink?” The man motioned with his head toward the tiny communal lounge that had a long bar across the back. 

“Vodka?” The barman asked Sam casually, already pouring the drink out. He just nodded in assent. It was that or water when he came here. Didn’t drink whiskey or beer. Didn’t want her smelling it on him. Worried it might upset her somehow. He closed his eyes and took a drink, wishing they were anywhere but here. Wishing, he didn’t know what he was wishing for precisely but he knew that it didn’t involve him standing in the makeshift bar of a whorehouse waiting for her to finish with whatever punter had bought the hour. 

It didn’t have to turn out this way, he thought to himself and smiled bitterly. Somehow he should have been able to grasp the second chance when it presented itself. If this, all of this, was just in his mind then he should have been able to grasp at that straw, find whatever it was, do whatever it was to save her this time. But every time he tried he failed and they ended up here. Sam drinking vodka in a makeshift bar, waiting for her to come down stairs. Maybe they’d never had a chance to end up any other way. After all, he’d been failing her his entire career. 

Sam’s first glimpse of her had been a week out of the academy. The wake up call to the realities of policing, his partner had called it. 19 and full of righteous vigor when they’d been called to the scene of a domestic dispute. Broken out windows, and fist sized holes in the door, he’d helped separate the man from the red faced woman with the blackening eyes and the smashed nose while his partner had walked the drunk husband round the block. Didn’t want to press charges, never did his partner would assure him later, and told Sam she’d been the one to start the fight and had it coming. 

He’d kept his eyes averted from the blood stains on the skirt of her housedress and that was how he’d seen her first. Hiding behind the sofa, all of seven years old, eyes the size of moons and tear tracks down her cheeks. It was the first time Sam had gotten drunk since before he entered the academy - it didn’t blot those eyes out from his dreams.   
Two years later and he’d caught fleeting glimpses of her during the frequent calls to the house. He’d had a new partner by then - one less inclined to think that the occasional slap was good for a wife - and when Sam had spotted the bruised jaw and the red marks on her arms his new partner had called in for Protective Services and stood back, watching, as Sam earned his first and only Aggressive Force complaint. The partner later testified that he’d never seen Sam touch the man except to help him - after all the filth had been so drunk he’d fallen down his own front stairs resisting arrest. If they hadn’t gotten the full medical report back to tell them that the bruises Sam had seen were only the beginning of extensive injuries there would have been more investigation into the complaint. As it was Internal Affairs wrote the event off as the suspect sustaining four broken ribs, a kicked in face, and shoe print bruising across his torso as a drunken fall down the steps during arrest. 

Sam had almost forgotten about her until five years later. Somehow the father had gotten out of prison and through a bureaucratic slip up had returned to the home with her and her mother -unnoticed by Protective Services. On Sam’s first case as a detective they’d raided a sex club that dealt in young girls. During questioning the club manager admitted the girl’s father had sold her for a dime bag and two cases of beer the year before. 

When he’d made DI they’d gone to celebrate and somehow ended up in one of the seedier strip joints in town. Not Sam’s scene but he was single, overworked, drunk and not a little horny. That had changed as he watched her lap dancing for two older men in bad suits with greasy comb overs three tables over. Instead of celebrating, newly minted DI Sam Tyler spent the next half hour vomiting in an alley. The nightmares haunted him for almost a month. It cost him two different girlfriends, he’d gotten what one deemed a monumental case of Mr. Floppy and couldn’t explain that it was all the result of a girl he didn’t actually know outside her case file.

He’d let her out of lewd behavior citations multiple times after that. Quietly arranging to have her released during vice roundups when she was caught. He knew the areas she worked and sometimes, against his will, DI Sam Tyler found himself going to a chippie that used too much grease and had stale vinegar as an excuse to just watch, his heart breaking silently with every car that slowed beside her.

She’d taken him by surprise that way one night and Sam had considered himself lucky that he was distracted and his reaction time slowed as a result - otherwise he’d have hurt her before even thinking about it. Instead he’d ended up with his back against a wall in an alleyway with her on her knees tugging at his zip. “No,” he’d whispered running fingers through hair he’d remembered in pigtails. “You don’t have to do this.” 

When she’d looked up at him then he’d read the confusion clearly in her face. Her complete lack of understanding as to why, why a high ranking police detective was helping her, getting her out of trouble and he’d just rebuffed the only reason she could understand. He’d been on his own knees, looking her in the eye and cupping her cheek before he understood it himself. “You deserve so much more than this,” he said softly. “So much more.” 

He’d tried to give her more as well, he thought ruefully. Took her back to his place that night and cooked her a late dinner. Threw her clothes in the washer tucked in the tiny laundry room of his flat. Had groped blindly to put the largest and darkest colored of his dress shirts on the vanity with his face and body turned the other way and still outside the door so she’d have something clean to put on after her hot shower. Sat and watched as she shoveled food in her mouth, wondering when the last time was that she’d eaten decent. Didn’t talk at all, just sat and stared as she sat looking at him with those eyes that still seemed to take up all of her face. Noticed she still had freckles on her nose. Didn’t speak until he’d had her tucked into his bed, clean clothes on a nearby chair. 

“Sam?” She asked quietly as he turned in the doorway and pulled his hand away from the switch he’d been about to flip. 

“I’m on the couch,” he jerked his head toward the front room of his flat. “Get some sleep Aurora. I’ll pull a sicky tomorrow and we’ll decide what you want to do from here.”   
“Ok,” she nodded and gave him a small smile. “Good night.” 

“Good night,” he answered before hitting the switch and leaving the room in total darkness. 

He wished she would have at least taken his wallet. Or his watch. Hell, she could have even taken the shirt instead of leaving it folded neatly on the pillow of the remade bed. If she’d have stolen something he could at least have been angry the next morning when he’d gone in to find the room empty and the window to the fire escape open. He could have felt something besides that crushing ache when he found her on the very same street corner the next night. He could have hated her, instead he hated himself even more for failing her again. 

By the time he’d reached DCI no one mentioned his odd fascination with her anymore. The way she was always silently slipped from the cells during vice round ups, the way calls about violence in the clubs she worked was always handled personally even if it wasn’t his team’s case. It was accepted as one of the DCI’s quirks. Those in the know swore that there was nothing sexual between Tyler and the girl but they kept it from DI Roy all the same. Everyone had a skeleton in the closet and while rumor abounded (sister, extended family member, family friend, current lover, former lover, first true love, ect.) no one ever pried into the exact nature of what tied normally iceberg cold DCI Sam Tyler to her. Everyone involved just knew that the only times Sam Tyler had ever truly come undone that girl had been the reason for it. 

She wouldn’t tell him how she ended up here. Claimed she wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute it’s night and she’s in some back alley on her knees and the next she’s waking up in the same alley 33 years earlier, with the doorman pulling an entirely different punter off of her and leading her back inside. He’d checked her arms the first night for scars and hadn’t found any. He’d have known if she was using; would have understood, gotten her help even, but she never had before and he didn’t see any scars now either. She got uncomfortable when he pressed her for details and Sam thought perhaps she remembered more than she was willing to tell him. He was afraid that if he pushed too hard she’d bolt again so he pretended that he believed her instead. 

He tried to see her as often as he could. Had tried at first to plead with her about changing her life. About getting a second chance. Reinventing herself. Told her he was willing to do whatever it took to help her. She just kissed him on the cheek though and walked away. Left him standing like a fool while a street full of prozzies looked on in pity.   
Instead every week it came to this. Gene at a darts practice, Sam taking one of the unmarked cars and coming here, paying the man behind the reception desk to take her out of this hellhole and to another one with greasy tables and cracked floors so he knew she was getting at least one solid meal a week. Every week it came to those big eyes staring at him in the front seat of the car, full of pity, as he pled his case over and over again. Every week it came down to that last moment where she cupped his cheek and leaned over to brush her lips against it softly. “Night Sam,” she’d whisper and before he could stop it the tears would be prickling at the back of his eyes as he watched her get out of the car. Would catch her by the wrist and press every bit of money he had into her hand. 

“Nest egg in case you change your mind,” he’d smile. And then he’d watch as she’d shake her head and just walk away. Found himself beating the steering wheel in frustration before driving back to the house and getting himself stinking drunk before Gene ever made it home. He was no longer surprised that his day off now coincided with the day after darts practice. 

Tonight would be different though, Sam decided as he finished his drink. Tonight he wasn’t going to beg and plead with her. Tonight he had a plan. That was what Aurora needed, he thought. Someone to lay out a complete, well thought through plan for her to follow. 

“Sammy!” She bounced down the stairs and scurried happily into the bar, throwing herself bodily into his arms. “This isn’t your usual night!” 

“Surprise,” he replied with a grin before kissing her on the cheek. “Thought I’d see if my favorite girl would like a night on the town.” 

“It’s curry this week isn’t it?” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Last week was fish and chips so this week is curry.” 

“Maybe when I come next Tuesday?” Sam suggested as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Tonight, I thought we’d do something different. Something special. How’s that sound? Make up for me standing you up Tuesday.” 

He knew that no matter what he’d suggest she’d agree enthusiastically but the sparkle in her eyes seemed genuine. She curled up on his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist, while he settled with the desk and led her outside. Smiled at him when he opened her car door. 

“Always the gentleman,” she laughed. 

“What?” Sam teased. “My mother would kill me if she found out I let a lady open her own car door. And since my mother is younger than me right now that would be extremely awkward.” 

“Bet she’d be too busy chasing you to complain about your manners.”

“Aurora,” he shook his head. “That’s my mother you’re talking about.” 

“Well,” she rolled her eyes. “Does she know she’s your mother?” 

“No,” Sam snorted. “She just thinks I’m some insane nutter who wants to cop a quick feel and that she should keep five year old me away from me because I’m unhinged.” 

“Yeah,” she shook her head. “That’s girl code for either pin me to the wall you sexy beast or get out of my house so I can admire your arse as you walk away.” 

“My mother does not think that way,” Sam replied firmly. 

“Fiver and a shag says she does.” 

“No bet,” Sam laughed. “You’d go round and convince her just to make me do a forfeit.” 

“So where are we going?” she asked as they wound through the backstreets of Manchester. “What is this fabulous surprise of yours?” 

“I,” Sam smiled smugly. “Am going to cook you dinner.” 

“Where?” Aurora retorted in horror. “Not at yours and Gene’s? Sam, I can’t begin to tell you what an absolutely horrible idea that is. I mean I’m sure your Gene’s a great guy and all but I don’t think DCI Gene Hunt is going to take well to you bringing a prozzie into the house. He hates working girls! There are rumors about him. He’s on that list of coppers to stay away from if you peddle arse. In fact he’s the top of the list of coppers to stay away from if you peddle arse. He’s you, except 33 years in the past and with absolutely no decency or compassion. And as much as he loves you Sam, you can’t exactly walk in and go ‘Hi honey meet my friend Rory she’s from the future too and by the way she gets paid to suck cock for a living’. He’ll go ballistic. I’ve heard he’s got a mean set of fists on him and you are not going to be what he connects them to because of me. Just take me for curry instead.” 

Sam flinched as the words assaulted his ears. No, he wasn’t sure Gene would understand. That didn’t make it any easier to hear her describe herself that way. And he didn’t want to tell her that he was frequently what Gene’s fists connected to. If anyone could take Gene apart a piece at a time Sam would put his odds on Aurora. 

“I meant my flat,” Sam answered. “Still keep it for appearances sake. Brought food in earlier. Thought I’d make us dinner. You liked my cooking last time.” 

“Carbonara,” she smiled. “God I miss good Italian food. All it seems like you can get anymore is Bolognaise.” 

“How about lasagna?” Sam suggested. 

“Don’t tease,” she laughed. 

“Policeman’s honor,” Sam replied and held one hand up as if he were making a pledge. “Homemade lasagna, warm bread, even managed a chocolate cake from the bakery.” 

“Keep this up and I’m going to fall head over heels in love with you,” she warned. 

“If only,” Sam thought bitterly to himself as he parked the car and led her inside his dingy flat, ashamed for the first time that it wasn’t someplace better. 

He poured her a glass of wine and tied an apron around his waist as she sat at the small dinette table watching. He decided now was the best time to broach the subject. “I want you to quit work,” Sam said without warning as he started frying the ground beef. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Quit work,” he repeated. “Just for a little while. I mean I’d prefer if it was permanently but please Aurora just until I tell you otherwise.” 

“Sam,” she sighed. “Please don’t.” 

“Look,” he turned away from the stove and grabbed her hands. “There’s this serial killer going after working girls. The Canalside Slasher. We know who he is and we’re watching him. We’re trying to gather enough evidence to make the arrest stick but we think, I think,” Sam amended. “That he might have been pushed into another episode.” 

“Sam,” she shook her head feebly.

“Look, the situation has changed. We’ve pushed him into a corner and he’s going to lash out. This type of killer, when you push him he’ll kill again. He can’t control it. Just stop working until we arrest him. Just until it’s safe.” 

“It’s never going to be safe,” she answered. “Just like your job is never going to be safe.” 

“They’re nothing alike!” Sam threw his hands up in frustration. “Look, you can stay here. I’ll bring food in and you can just spend all your time here reading books and watching telly. Consider it a vacation. Just don’t work. Gene will be gone a few days, we’ll hang out when I get off work, be tourists in the 70’s together. It’ll be fun. I’ll even buy you a pair of really ugly sunglasses that take up half your face.” 

“Sam.” 

“Please,” he snapped. “You either do this for me or I’m going to arrest you and throw you in a cell until we’ve got him! Can’t you understand you’re not safe? I’m not going to get another chance to save you if you die again! I couldn’t,” he stopped and turned away in disgust. 

“Throw me in a cell and I’ll be out again before you’re ever out of the building. You know it as well as I do.” He heard her voice waver as she answered. He hated himself on the nights that this conversation made her cry. 

“Please,” he turned and clung to her hands. 

“You’re ground beef is burning,” she answered and motioned with her chin toward the stove. He watched as she stood up and started toward the door, flipped the burner off quick so he could follow her. 

“Aurora,” he rolled his head backward. “Where are you going? Come on, stay for dinner.” 

“Good night Sam.” 

“At least let me drive you,” he said as he tried to get between her and the door. “It’s not safe out there at night.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I’m used to it.” 

“Just,” he reached into his leather jacket and snagged the picture of Pitcairn nestled inside. “Take this.” 

“What’s this?” 

“This is the Canalside Slasher.” 

“He’s a suspect?” 

“No,” Sam shook his head with conviction. “We’ve got him, we’re just tying up the last of the loose ends before we make an arrest. We’ve got surveillance on him but show it to the other girls, get it out on the streets as well. Just in case. Pass it on to the pimps. No one should go anywhere with him. No matter how much money he offers you don’t want his business. If you aren’t going to stay here then promise me that. Promise me that if you see this man you will run as far away as you can as fast as you can. He’s dangerous.” 

“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll pass his picture around.” 

“Now stay for dinner.” 

“No,” she reached past him for the door.

“Let me drive you back. You know I’m just going to follow you anyway.” 

“Fine.” 

“Take the cake as well. You and the other girls can eat it once you’ve closed up for the night. Special treat.” 

“You really are a girl sometimes aren’t you?” 

“Is that why you won’t let me protect you?” He wanted to ask. “Is that why we keep ending up like this?” Instead he smiled and pushed the door open for her. “No, I just know you don’t get many treats. It’s my job to spoil you every chance I get.”

“Says who?” 

“Says me,” he answered as he slammed the door behind him. 

He sat in the drive for over two hours that night. Reclined his seat back and took the occasional nip of his whiskey. Listened to the sound of thrown pans and fists hitting walls. Waited for the house to fall silent. Took another sip and opened the door. Found Sam passed out on the sofa, an empty bottle of his cheapest whiskey tipped over on the floor beside him. Tried not to let his gaze linger on the tear tracks drying on Sam’s cheeks. 

Been to see her then, Gene thought to himself as he pulled a blanket over Sam and shut off the light. He’d been expecting it. Couldn’t blame him. Gene knew one of the pictures they had of Pitcairn had gone in Sam’s coat pocket and he was sure if he checked now it was gone. Trying to warn her then. 

Gene didn’t know what lay between Sam and the girl. All he knew was that for the past four months he’d lied to Sam about having a darts tournament each week and followed him instead. Every week it was the same. Sam went inside, ten minutes later Sam came back outside with the girl and they went to some cheap restaurant so Sam could watch her as she ate. Every week they argued, every week Sam Tyler begged, and every week he’d sit parked down the street while Sam drank himself into a stupor and threw the pots and pans before passing out. The next morning, every week, Gene found himself sniffing Sam’s clothes like a paranoid wife and was silently relieved each time that they didn’t smell like sex. 

He didn’t know what sort of attachment Sam had to the girl. All he knew was that her name was Rory, she worked for the O’Meara’s and that originally she was from Hyde. He’d made arrangements that if she was picked up she was never processed and there were to be no favors getting her out of the cells. They were just supposed to cut her loose and send her on her way. Sam’s name had never been mentioned and if anyone thought DCI Gene Hunt was taken with a prozzie they were smart enough to keep it to themselves. He didn’t know why she was important to Sam, just that she was, and because he trusted Sam he decided it was best if they both kept their secrets regarding the girl.


	10. Chapter Ten

Gene felt the bed dip and opened his eyes. Still dark out. Sam must have woke up and decided to come to bed. He shifted slightly so the other man would have room under the covers. Arms wrapped around his waist. He waited for the familiar feel of Sam rooting so that he would roll over and pull the smaller man back into his chest. Like the damn cat, Tyler, always trying to squirm into the most comfortable spot, usually sprawled at least partially across Gene with their nose burrowed somewhere uncomfortable. 

Lips against the back of his neck and he shifted his weight to roll over. Tried not to yawn. If he yawned Sam would think he was awake and he wanted to sleep. Hands against his shoulders giving a firm push. Burrowed his face in the pillow and snuffled. Face pressing into his back, vest nudged upward, tongue licking at his lower back. Fumbling hands in his pajama bottoms. Fingers trailing along his cock. No reason to pretend he was asleep now, Sam knew at least part of him was wide awake. 

“Please,” Sam muttered quietly into his lower back. “Just.” 

Kicked out of the pajama bottoms pooled at his feet and felt Sam’s head nudging him onto his front. Felt warm lips working their way down his hip bone and fingers clinging to his thighs. Mouth moving over his arse. 

“Please,” so soft he barely heard before he felt a tongue work along his crack. Dip in to tease around his hole. Puff of hot air blown against sensitive flesh. Moaned into the pillow and pressed his cock down to rub against the sheets. 

Felt Sam rustling around, moving, but couldn’t focus enough to care. Tightened his grip on the pillow as the tongue began to move faster, licking a million different spots at once while he worked his hips against the sheets. 

Slicked fingers replaced tongue and he fought the urge to bang his head against the pillows in pleasure. Jolt of pleasure as Sam’s fingers began to stretch, hitting all Gene’s sensitive spots. Pressed his hips back, hoping Sam would take the hint and touch him. Felt a hand stroke up his side. Wrong direction, he thought sleepily. 

Felt the arm around his chest and the hand on his hip tugging him onto all fours. Moved with it. Felt the head of Sam’s cock pressing against his hole and pushed backwards. Gasped and felt his eyes widen at the feel of Sam’s cock inside him. Fully awake now. 

“So good,” Sam panted as he began to work slowly into Gene’s arse. Sank the last of the way in and stilled. Hand trailed down to wrap around Gene’s cock and began to stroke. He clenched his muscles around Sam and felt the other man lean down to press against his back. Kisses on the back of his neck as Sam started to thrust. Pushed backwards against him and began to rock between Sam’s cock in his arse and his cock in Sam’s hand. 

Thrust faster when Sam tightened his grip and let Sam take him over the edge. Came across Sam’s hand and the sheets in ragged spurts. 

“Fuck,” Sam whined and brought his hand up to mirror the one resting on Gene’s hip. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted in a ragged voice as his hips began to jerk faster. Fingers clutched at his hips and he knew he’d have a line of bruises tomorrow from it as Sam began pounding into his arse. 

“Gene,” he groaned and Gene couldn’t help but wince at the raw sound tearing through that delicate throat. “Oh fuck Gene.” 

One last snap of Sam’s hips and he felt warmth pour into him. Shifted forward as Sam pulled back to untangle themselves. Went face first into his pillow and forgot to care about the sticky spot he was lying on. Rolled onto his back and stared up in the darkness at Sam still sitting on his knees, head bowed, panting lightly. Reached over and grabbed him around the waist. Tugged Sam down to lie pressed into his side. Adjusted his arm around Sam’s shoulders so it wouldn’t go numb as he slept. Felt Sam slip an arm around his middle and brought his other hand up to lace their fingers together. Pretended to fall back to sleep instantly. Felt Sam shift a bit to get comfortable and cracked his eyes slightly to watch as the other man’s face relaxed into sleep. Closed his own eyes and sank into the reemerging warmth of the bed. Had to leave early tomorrow for his flight. John would want to talk about the case in depth all the way to London and Gene would need to at least sound sensible. 

Dreamt he managed a pub where Diana Dors and Baxter were the barmaids and Sam was his barman. Wasn’t surprised to find that the till was empty with the way they were constantly running out of chip oil.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Sam glared angrily at the television flickering in front of him. Gene had been gone less than a day and already he was bored. Stayed late in CID, working the case along with Ray and Chris. Evaluated surveillance information, reread case files on the victims, stared at the white board and tried to will the end results of their case onto it. Skipped the pub and broke out Gene’s scotch for the three of them to drink. Didn’t comment about Ray’s raised eyebrow as he leaned back in Gene’s chair and put his feet on the desk. 

Gene had called around 9. Flight was in, he’d made it fine to the hotel. Gave them his room number. Told them the front desk had given him directions to the address he had for Sunshine Village. Five minutes on the subway from the hotel. He was hoping to find Miranda before dinner. If that was the case he’d arrange to have the dates on his ticket changed and he’d call tomorrow with the new flight information. Only cracked a few jokes about the surveillance they had planned and the way “Tyler’s letting you all sit round with your thumbs up your own arses.” 

It was 11:30 now and he was slumped on the sofa, whiskey in hand, willing the phone to ring. Ring, damn it, just ring. Gene had said he’d call in a few hours. It had been a few hours and the phone hadn’t rang. Ring damn it, he ordered silently. 

“Mroaw,” the cat announced loudly from her end of the sofa. 

“Off the sofa,” Sam muttered and pushed his ankle against the cat’s fluff. “You know the rules. No fuzz balls on the furniture.” 

“Mroaw,” the cat replied before sinking her claws into his ankle. 

“Fuck,” Sam snapped as he punted her fluffy white arse onto the floor. “Spoiled little bitch!” 

“Mroaw,” the cat yowled loudly. 

“You know,” Sam waved a finger at her. “Gene isn’t supposed to be home for four days. That’s plenty of time for me to take you to the pound and go catnap Ivanhoe. He wouldn’t treat me like this!”

“Mroaw!” 

“Jesus,” Sam looked heavenward. “I’m arguing with a cat and contemplating catnapping from a five year old version of my self.” He reached out for the bottle and shook it gently. Empty. A sure sign that he should go to bed and try to sleep. There was a phone there. If Gene rang he’d hear it. 

Sam unbuttoned his shirt and jerked it off his shoulders before eyeing the bed warily. It was more comfortable than the one in his flat but he still expected to have a long night of not sleeping in it. 

Pulled his vest off and dropped it in the hamper. He hated sleeping alone. He knew it sounded selfish and the American girl he’d told Gene about had always joked he was a ‘player’ every time he’d wheedle for her to stay at his place rather than go back to her dorm room for the night. She’d developed quite a reputation being delivered to her first class in a panda car each day but it hadn’t stopped him from insisting.

It wasn’t the sex, particularly, that Sam wanted he decided as he unzipped his trousers and pushed them from his hips. Although sex was good, had been amazing with her and was even more mind blowing with Gene, it wasn’t the sex he’d wanted. It was the feel of someone else beside him in the bed that he was addicted to. The heavy warmth of someone slumbering beside him. That first bleary eyed smile of the morning that made his pulse race. Sam Tyler was a closet snuggle junkie. 

Glared at the cat on the foot of the bed. “I’m not that desperate.” He said flatly as he grabbed her round the middle and tossed her from the room. Shut the door in her smashed in little face. He could feel her scowl through the door and flipped off all but the bedside lamp. Pulled down the blankets and slid into bed. 

First, Sam thought as he looked around, pillow arrangement. That might work. He’d trained himself to it during longer dry spells in an empty bed. Grabbed Gene’s pillow and lay it next to him. Buried his nose in it, smelt whiskey and fags and shampoo. Felt his cock stiffen and buried his face to breathe deep again. 

Shifted so he was curled around the pillow and comfortable. Try to meditate, he told himself. You’re floating on a cloud. All the cares of the day are slipping away. The undernotes of sweat and sex on Gene’s pillow tickled his nose and he moaned softly. Fuck meditation he decided as his cock became suddenly rock hard. 

Glared at the phone. Rolled onto his other side so that the pillow was at his back. Thought about how it felt to have Gene pressed up against his back, pounding into his arse as they fucked in Lost and Found. Right that wasn’t helping. 

Rolled onto his back and glared at the phone again. Let a hand trail down his chest and then up his thighs. Teased at his own cock. He wasn’t getting to sleep at this rate Sam decided as he closed his eyes and ran his fingers up his own length, he went ahead and fell headfirst into the latest reincarnation of his favorite fantasy. If Gene was going to put it out there he’d be damned if he didn’t feel justified in going ahead and using it.

He didn’t know why they were there so late. There weren’t any bodies and forensics was dark but he and Gene were standing in the doorway, watching the light flicker underneath her office door. He swallowed as he watched Gene loosen his tie and stub his cigarette out in an ashtray on one of the abandoned desks. Followed the man as he sauntered predatorily toward the door. 

The door opens and she looks up at them. And now, here in 1974 she’s young - younger than he is - but they’re the same bottomless eyes she had the first time he’d seen her in 1988. Slight tilt at the side of them deepened by the play of shadows and light from the desk lamp. He swallows as those eyes flicker between him and Gene. Weighing, assessing, evaluating them. 

“You look nervous DI Tyler,” the voice a touch deeper and richer than the one she uses at the station. The tone she takes on outside work when she forgets to be Dr. Cynthia Baxter. When the line between who she is and what she is has blurred. “Is there a reason he should be nervous Guv?” 

“No,” Gene’s eyes raked over her slowly as she stood and moved toward them. “Can’t think why he’d be nervous here between me and a whiskey voiced witch. Can you?” 

“No,” she shook her head slowly and reached for the pins holding her hair back and off her neck. Let the mass of it tumble down her back, smelled her perfume underneath the tang of chemicals. 

Sam tried to swing his head between the two of them as she stalked him like prey, maneuvering him back into a solid wall of camel colored coat. He licked his lips as Gene’s hands wrapped around his waist and began to work at his zip from behind. “What?” He managed to stutter as her fingers trailed along the buttons of his shirt, slipping them free with the lightest touch. 

“Don’t be nervous,” she crooned as she leaned in to nibble at his chest. He felt Gene’s head drop behind him and another mouth sucking along the pulse point of his neck. “You’ll like this. I promise.” 

“I, uh, Gene?” He managed to gasp as one set of fingers pushed up his vest and began to tease at his nipples while another set dipped below the drooping waistline of his now loosened trousers. 

“Enjoy Sammy,” Gene crooned into his ear and bit sharply at his neck. 

“Yeah Sammy,” Cynthia whispered as she pushed him further into Gene’s chest and pressed up against him, tangling her tongue with Gene’s over his shoulder. Felt the hands leave off teasing around his cock, quickly replaced by the ones that had been teasing his nipples, as she reached around him to undo Gene’s trousers as well. Unbuttoned his shirt and both sets of hands left Sam as he felt Gene shrug out of his own shirt. 

“You’ve got an advantage now Baxter,” Gene panted into the nape of Sam’s neck. “Seems that if we’re playing Doctor’s and Nurses we should see what you’ve got as well.”   
“Such sexy nurses,” she breathed before nibbling behind Sam’s ear. “Lucky, lucky me.” 

Sam felt Gene’s hand dip down to stroke his cock and leaned back against him when Cynthia stepped away. Undid the buttons on her fitted black blazer and let it fall open. He took a deep breathe and stared at the bare expanse of skin where a button down should have been. Licked his lips at the sight of the completely impractical lacy black bra. Felt Gene press his cock into Sam’s back as they watched her shrug out of the blazer and reach for the side zip of her knee length skirt. Took her hands away and let it slide down her hips and then pool on the floor. Smiled as she stepped out of it’s confines around her ankles and stood staring at them. 

A piece of film, Sam thought to himself. One of those vintage style pinups. Tiny scraps of black lace and ivory skin. Reach out and pull her to him quickly. Get hands on her before she changes her mind. Let his fingers roam over the change in texture between smooth skin and the pattern of the lace. Stockings feel silky underneath his fingers and he fumbles with clasps on the suspender belt. 

“God you’re bloody gorgeous,” Gene mutters hoarsely and it’s everything Sam has thought for 18 years all in four words. 

“So are you,” she purrs before Sam’s lips crash onto hers. Kicks out of the trousers and pants as she pushes them blindly to the floor. Arches forward at the feel of slick fingers attempting an ambush on his arse from behind. 

“Steady Tyler,” Gene grunts as fingers begin to stretch him. He moans against her mouth and tightens his grip on her hips. Kisses her harder and tangles his tongue around hers. Nips her lower lip as she pulls away. 

“Don’t,” he stutters as the fingers pull away, leaving him empty. Gene tugs him by the upper arms backwards until they land against the desk. Doesn’t know what he’s trying to fight - the loss of the fingers, Cynthia in his arms or another mouth against his own. 

“Don’t?” She tilts her head and smiles. “But don’t you want? The two of us?” Slinks toward him. “Together. Solely focused on your pleasure?” 

“God yes,” he gasps as he feels the head of Gene’s cock press against his arse. A grunt and then another thrust and he’s full and God he wants to move but the position’s awkward. Gene’s leaning against the desk, halfway between standing and sitting, Sam tilted slightly at the waist and pulled against his chest with Gene’s cock buried inside him. He makes a feeble grab for her as Gene begins to shift his hips, wondering what her part in this is, hoping she’s there to do more than stand just out of reach and tease while Gene fucks him. 

He groans as Gene thrusts hard and licks his lips as he watches her sink gracefully to her knees. “Oh fuck,” he throws his head back and howls at the feel of moist heat around his cock as she wraps her lips around him and swallows, hollowing out her cheeks. 

“God damn,” Gene pants into his neck and he feels the other man’s chin resting on his shoulder, taking in the sight in front of him. Drops his head and watches as her head bobs. Tangles fingers in her hair and it’s as soft as he always thought it would be. Floats between them as they set a counterpoint rhythm, Cynthia sucking in as Gene thrusts forward and pulling back as Gene pulls out. His hips move automatically, thrusting between them and he tangles one set of fingers in her hair and takes the others to wrap up behind him into Gene’s. 

“Coming,” he manages to grunt. “God I’m coming.” 

In his mind she lets out a long purr and swallows him down again. Gene slams into him a final time, pressing into his prostate and coming loudly. 

Twisted his wrist and pressed fingers deeper into his arse as he comes over his hand. Glances at the clock - just past midnight and still no call. Reaches for his discarded trousers and wipes his hands on them. Feels his eyes droop and rolls over, burrows his face in Gene’s pillow and drifts into a sound sleep.


	12. Chapter Twelve

“Andrew,” Sam tried his best to smile as the other man opened the door. 

“Sam,” the doctor looked over at Ray and then back at him. “Where’s Gene?” 

“He had to run down a few leads in London.” Sam lied. “Our inquiries found that Miranda might have been seen there. Want to check it out.” 

“In London? Why would Miranda be in London?” 

“Not sure,” Ray broke in. “Man who reported seeing her to the police said she was struggling.” 

“Struggling?” 

“Like she wanted to get away,” Sam nodded. “She stuck out in his mind because she was fighting with the man who had her. Went straight to the police about it.”   
“Did they find her?” Andrew looked at the two of them anxiously. Sam bit his lip and tried to keep his composure. Did he know? Did he have any clue about what Miranda had found? What she knew about him? 

“No,” Sam shook his head. “But we have a good description and that’s given us some solid leads. Could we come inside?” 

“Right,” Andrew nodded. “Of course. Can I offer you something to drink? Some water maybe?” 

“No,” Sam shrugged. “We’re fine. Just wanted to ask you a few questions more about Miranda for the case.” 

“I don’t know what I can tell you,” Andrew answered. “I don’t have any business in London. I’ve never worked there. Did my training in Edinburgh.” 

“Can you think of anyone who’d want to blackmail you Mr. Pitcairn?” Ray asked. “Wanted money? Upset about how their loved one’s were cared for?” 

“I’m a good doctor,” Andrew said determinedly. “I provide good care for my patients.” 

“Of course,” Sam agreed. “It’s just maybe someone you couldn’t save. Too far gone when they got to surgery. Family took it hard, still in denial.” 

“Not recently,” Andrew answered. “I’ve gotten exceptionally lucky for the past two years, haven’t lost a single patient.” 

“That’s good,” Sam nodded. “Really good. What about money? Do you owe anyone? Any sort of debts that maybe aren’t very savory? Medical school expenses? Gambling?” 

“No,” Andrew answered. “I mean I’ve got the same medical school expenses every other doctor does but nothing serious. No debts beside that and the mortgage.” 

“Right,” Sam agreed. “Anyone wanting money?” 

“No. Is that what you think this is?” 

“No,” Sam shook his head. “It’s not at all what we think. We just need to make sure we’re not going down the wrong line of inquiry when it’s something like gambling debts.” 

“No,” Andrew insisted. “No debts.” 

“Well,” Sam replied. “That means it’s what we first thought and the Guv isn’t wasting his time in London.” 

“Do you know who took Miranda?” 

“We have a good idea,” Sam lied. “It seems,” he looked over at Ray, “could you wait outside DS Carling?” 

“Sure Boss.” 

Once Ray was outside Sam looked over at Andrew as if he were divulging a secret. Commissioner Walters had agreed to play along when presented with the evidence that his son-in-law was the Canalside Slasher and now Sam was setting the bait. “It seems Commissioner Walters,” Sam shifted uncomfortably. “He might not have been playing above board.” 

“You think John’s corrupt?” Andrew asked. “I mean I’ve always wondered but you’re sure?” 

“We’re pretty sure,” Sam agreed. “Seems someone he was working with may have decided that they wanted to renegotiate their deal with the Commissioner. Took Miranda as a bargaining chip.” 

“Oh my God,” Andrew replied. “Do you think they’ll hurt her?”

“We don’t think so,” Sam answered. “They’ll want to keep her in the best manner possible, given the circumstances, so that Commissioner Walters works with them. If they hurt her they don’t have anything to bargain with.” 

“So,” Andrew asked. “What’s he going to do?” 

“Once we confirm who’s involved and where Miranda is,” Sam replied. “We’ll pretend to broker a deal for her return and then arrest them at the rendezvous point.” 

“What about John?” 

“He’ll be resigning afterwards. Early retirement. Nothing said about the reason.” 

“Right,” Andrew agreed. “Probably best. Just hope it doesn’t leave a taint on your DCI for being his friend.” 

“Well,” Sam shrugged. “DCI Hunt’s made of tough stuff. He’ll hack it out ok. May even end up with a promotion out of it. Commissioner Walters is talking about making it his last official act. Joked he might even make him Commissioner. At least I hope it was a joke.” 

“Lord save us if it wasn’t huh?” Andrew laughed and Sam noticed it was a weary sound. The man didn’t know about what Miranda had found then. He really did believe she had been kidnapped as part of an extortion attempt on her father. 

“And Manchester,” Sam replied. “We have a few safety precautions we want you to take,” he changed the subject quickly. 

“Safety precautions?” 

“Nothing major. We don’t think you’re a target but we want to be careful.” 

“What sort of precautions?” 

“I want to arrange for a police officer to drive you to the hospital every day. Retrieve you from work. I’d also like your itinerary. Let us know when you’ll be in surgery and when you’ll be free. We’ll call a few times a day just to check on you. I’ll give you a direct line to get through if you need something. Plenty of police around the hospital so we’re not too worried about you there. They’ll all know that you’re at a low level of danger and they’ll keep an eye out. If you need them they’ll be right there.” 

“So why are you driving me back and forth then?” 

“If someone were to attack you,” Sam answered. “With the hospital being well guarded they would have to do it either here or on your route to work. Since you have a security system on the house what I propose is this. Every morning one of our detectives will arrive here and take you to the hospital. They’ll then come back to pick you up when your shift is over and bring you home. They’ll go through the house to make sure it’s safe, watch you set the alarm and then you don’t leave again until morning. Any errands that need done we’ll send a WPC to do. You meanwhile stay locked up tight either here or the hospital.” 

“You think this is necessary?” Andrew asked. 

“I do.” Sam agreed. “Just as a precaution.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“I’ll do it. If it helps get Miranda back then I’ll do what you think is best Sam.” 

“Good man. So, just let me get a list of cars from you so we know what ones belong here and what ones don’t and then we’ll be on our way. Leave you to set the alarm and Ray will be back at what time tomorrow?” 

“Six. He needs to be here at six. As far as cars we have two. My green Jaguar coupe and Miranda’s red Mercedes. I can’t remember the tags off hand.”

“That’s all right,” Sam shrugged and closed his notebook. “I’ll get them when I go outside. We all right?” 

“Yeah,” Andrew agreed. “I’m fine. Just Sam?” 

“Huh?” 

“Bring Miranda home safe. Please.” 

“We will.” 

When he got outside Ray looked at him appraisingly. “Take the bait?” 

“Like a fish,” Sam answered. “He has no idea that we’ve got him. Really does think she’s been kidnapped.” 

“Idiot. What time do we need to get him in the morning?” 

“Six. I’ll come and get him in the Cortina, you and Chris leave then for the station. Mark and Geoff are in charge of four plods who’ll keep him under constant surveillance in the hospital. We’ll keep someone on him everywhere but surgery. That can’t be helped though.” 

“You think he’ll notice?” 

“No,” Sam replied. “He thinks we’re here for his safety and even if he does decide to do something he’ll assume we’ll look the other way.” 

“While he picks up a slapper?” Ray guffawed. “The Guv would have his nuts in a blender even if he wasn’t the Canalside Slasher.” 

“You think?” 

“I know,” Ray said emphatically.

“Didn’t think the Guv was that concerned with men’s affairs outside the home.” 

“He ain’t,” Ray answered loyally. “But he’s slipping it to the Guv’s god daughter ain’t he? Guv ain’t gonna like the idea that he might pick something up and bring it home to her. Guv hold a lot of stock in faithfulness when it’s his own family.” 

“Right,” Sam agreed. “Just like with his team. Loyalty. He’d expect Andrew to be loyal to Miranda. Loyal to the family. Andrew doesn’t know that though. Figures it’s a gentleman’s thing. Guv won’t want to tell Miranda he’s been with a prozzie so he’ll make us cover for him.” 

“Think he will Boss?” 

“I think he might Ray.” Sam gripped the wheel tight. “I think Miranda’s disappearance has put him under stress. He might break, have another episode. We’ll need to watch him closely.” 

“We’re spread thin Boss,” Ray warned. 

“Use plods for night surveillance. Take them out of uniform for a few days, pay the overtime.” 

“What’s the Guv going to say about that?” 

“Expense has already been cleared by the Commissioner’s office.” 

“Right Boss,” Ray agreed. “I’ll get the plods on him minute we’re back to the station.” 

“Right. Let’s see if they’ve heard anything from the Guv yet? Then I need to go brief Commissioner Walters. He’ll want to know that his son in law took the bait.” 

“Take the Guv’s scotch Boss,” Ray suggested. 

“Why is that?” 

“You’re asking the Commissioner to pretend he’s a corrupt copper and his daughter was kidnapped because of it.” 

“So? He’s already agreed to it Ray. Knows it’s all an act.” 

“Doesn’t mean the man isn’t going to want a drink because of it.” 

“Good point.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

He doesn’t know what she’s doing here, in their house. Half naked and twined around Gene in the center of their bed. Sam doesn’t stop to question the fact that the blood red undergarments scream prozzie or how strange they look compared to the demure gray suit strewn about their bedroom floor. 

Doesn’t stop to think about the fact that Gene is currently in the States looking for Miranda. That the other man has been gone three days with only short calls each night to check up on the case and the welfare of CID. He thinks this is a dream but given the fact that he’s currently in a coma or dead he doesn’t think that would make anything less out of the ordinary than it usually is. 

All he can focus on is the fact that Gene’s hands are big enough to almost completely cover her arse from this angle. He thinks idly that Vic Tyler, won’t think of him as Dad, would give his left nut to be in here filming this because it was far better than any of the crap they’d been distributing; and then he wonders if it’s in the blood to be looking at this and debating film angles. 

“Sam,” Gene pulls his head away from her neck and looks up. “Welcome home.” 

“Hmmm,” he nods as he sheds his jacket and leaves it on the door. Untucks his shirt and begins to undo the buttons. 

“Look what I found on the doorstep,” Gene wraps his fingers in her hair and pulls her head back slightly so she’s looking over her own shoulder at him. “One very dirty minded little tart.” 

“Just left on the doorstep?” He pushes the shirt off his shoulders and kicks off his boots. “Seems like a dangerous thing to leave lying about,” he manages as he pulls down his zip and then pushes the snug red trousers down to step out of them. 

“Especially this one,” Gene agrees as he pulls her slightly more toward him and rears back a hand to smack her across the arse. “Got all sorts of dangerous knowledge in that brain of hers. Bullets and fingerprints and how to cut up bodies. Even claimed she was here to deliver some evidence analysis.” 

“Awful desirable woman for a criminal to turn,” Sam smirked as he crawled onto his knees in the center of the bed behind her. “Cynthia Baxter, master criminal, is that it? Dressed like a tart and stirring up trouble?” 

She doesn’t answer but instead grinds her arse back against his cock and pants into Gene’s neck as he pushes aside her damp knickers and starts moving his fingers against her clit. He watches Gene lick his lips and then leer before dropping his face down into the exposed cleavage to nibble and suck. Sam leans down, dropping kisses across her spine before putting his teeth to the tab at the back of her bra and giving it a quick manipulation with teeth and tongue, managing to undo the clasp. 

“Better,” Gene grunts and begins to suck on newly displayed flesh. 

Sam rubs his fingers experimentally against her, dragging wetness back with his fingers to tease along her hole. She doesn’t pull away from the intrusion of his fingertip inside of her, just whimpers in what he thinks, hopes, is delight. He decides to take control of the situation. 

“Lie back Gene,” he commands and pushes gently at the other man’s shoulders. When Gene’s broken his mouth away from her nipple he looks at Sam, flushed, with his lips swollen and tempting. Sam reached down and grasped Cynthia’s hips, pulling them back against his cock and her weight onto her hands. Slides into slick heat and thrusts deep before leaning over to kiss Gene on the mouth. Gathers as much moisture as he can onto his cock and his fingers before pulling out to rub against the cleft of her arse.   
“Just how naughty of a tart are you Cindy?” He rasps against her ear and slaps her upturned bottom. “Naughty enough to fuck two coppers at the same time?” 

A low, needy moan as she pitches forward and kisses Gene lustily. Sam keeps his hands on her hips while she positions herself and slides smoothly down onto Gene’s cock in a single stroke. Sam ran his hands up her sides, pinched lightly at her nipples and then around to urge her into lying folded in half with her thighs grasping Gene’s hips, her head buried in his shoulder and her arse teasingly on display. 

Sam watched as Gene’s hips started to push, grinding up into her as she rode him. Figured out the pace and slid slicked fingers into her arse as she rode Gene’s cock. He felt her muscles clench and Gene let out a strangled cry. 

Sam caught Gene’s eye and licked his lips seductively before putting both hands on her hips and pressing the head of his cock into her arse. “Fuck,” he cried out as he sunk deeper into her with each of his or Gene’s thrusts. Felt the fullness of Gene’s cock pressing her muscles tight against him. Bit down on her shoulder to stop himself from coming instantly and found his place in the rhythm, rocking her back and forth between his cock and Gene’s. 

“Oh fuck,” Gene announced. “Come for me Cindyloo you filthy little tart. Come on, you’ve got two of us pounding you, go ahead and come for me. I want to hear you come.” 

Sam thrust harder into her arse and let out a cry of his own when she clenched her muscles around his cock and began to move more frantically between them. “Harder,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “Fucking hell I want it harder.” 

He pulled back to slam into her arse again and felt her muscles clamp down in a strangle hold on his cock. Felt her start trembling and then a low, needy moan from Gene as his cock swelled and he came. 

“Still with me Cindy?” He gasped out between thrusts and bent low over her back. Tongued the bruise forming on her shoulder. “Think you can still go some more?” 

A strangled sob into Gene’s neck and her arse pushing back against him was the only reply he got before grabbing roughly onto her hips and letting himself go. Arched his back and thrust faster, smiling at the glazed look in Gene’s eyes underneath her. 

“Fuck,” she whimpered. “Oh please Sam, please, fuck.” His hips snapped forward one last time and he buried himself deep inside her, orgasming so hard his toes cramped from the force. 

He pulled out and slumped onto the bed next to where she was curled up on Gene’s chest. “God you’re good,” he managed to pant and wasn’t sure which of the two he was talking to. 

Sam looked around sleepily as the sound of Sorted for E’s and Whizz began to jingle electronically and tried to focus on where the sound of his mobile could be coming from here in 1973. 

“That’s your phone,” Cynthia muttered sleepily. “You’re going to need to change the ringtone DCI Tyler if you ever want to make super by the age of 40. Can’t have a song about raving suddenly start playing when you meet the mayor can you?” 

“Huh?” Sam picked his head up and stared at her. 

“Never have that problem if you keep Whittaker as your ringtone like I do,” Gene muttered and buried his face into Cynthia’s hair. 

“Just sound like an old fogey,” Cynthia replied as the phone continued to ring. 

“Shut it Miss Brightside,” Gene snorted. “Are you going to get that or not DCI Tyler? Could be someone important.” 

“Huh?” Sam repeated and closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

When he opened them again the room was dark and he was alone with a set of sticky sheets and an angry knot in his stomach. It was still 1973 and the phone’s ring jangled on his nerves. He was going to kill Gene for calling this late. 

Sam reached over to pull the phone out of it’s cradle. Looked over at the clock. 4 in the morning. Knew Gene had told everyone Sam was house sitting until he got back. Claimed he needed someone to feed his cat. Sam glared at the fluff ball currently asleep at the foot of their bed. The monster didn’t need fed, she had done quite well hunting from Sam’s plate since Gene left. The spoiled little bitch was just as self centered as her owner, Sam thought uncharitably.

“DI Tyler,” he mumbled sleepily and wiped his eyes. 

“Is this Sam?” A nervous voice asked. He couldn’t place it. 

“Yeah?” He tried to focus. No one besides the station knew he was here. “Who’s this?” 

“This is Jessie,” the voice answered. “I’m, um, I’m a friend of Rory’s. She told me to call through to this number.” 

“Aurora?” Sam woke instantly and sat up in the bed. He’d given her the number here and at the station in case she needed him. If there was an emergency, or she wanted to talk, he wasn’t sure why, he just needed her to have it. “What’s wrong? What’s happened to her?” 

“Well,” the woman sounded even worse now. “She got this walk in and -” 

“Did he hurt her?” Sam panicked. “Where is she? What hospital? Did you get a name on him?” 

“Um,” he could tell the girl was getting ready to bolt and took a deep breathe. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing,” she whispered. “It’s just that guy you gave her a picture of. The one who’s dangerous. He came in looking for a girl. Nick recognized him and was about to throw him out but Rory stopped him.” 

“She stopped him?” Sam felt his chest filling with dread. 

“Yeah, told Nick she was free for the rest of the night and left with that guy. Came to get her handbag and gave me the phone number to call you. Said to tell you she usually takes her out calls to the Charleston House Hotel, down near the canal.” 

“She left with him?” Sam repeated. 

“I didn’t get the license on his car but he was driving a green,” 

“A green Jaguar,” Sam answered. The bastard had even taken his own car. “Thank you,” he said before he slammed the phone down. 

He grabbed the radio beside the bed as he slid out from under the covers, reaching for his clothes. “Alpha One, alpha one this is eight six zero. Alpha one this is eight six zero.”

“Come in boss this is alpha one,” Phyllis answered. 

“Alpha one I need all available units to the Charleston House Hotel. All available units to the Charleston House Hotel. Suspect is Andrew Pitcairn.” 

“Boss?” 

“He’s taken another girl Phyllis. Tell them all available units are to respond immediately.” 

“Roger Boss,” Phyllis agreed and Sam heard the call relayed as he struggled into his boots and grabbed his jacket and the Cortina keys. 

What the hell had Aurora been thinking? Sam shook his head as he took a corner on two wheels and blew through a stop sign. He’d warned her Pitcairn was dangerous. Told her he was the Canalside Slasher. Told her the man was going to strike again. 

“Fuck!” Sam snarled as he pounded the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. Told her they were just waiting until the evidence was air tight to arrest him. And that’s what she was giving him. Air tight evidence. A chance to catch Pitcairn in the act. 

He pressed his foot on the accelerator and cursed that the damn thing couldn’t go any faster. She was giving him the evidence he needed, trusted that Sam would succeed in the one thing he’d always failed at before. She was giving him the chance to save her. 

He spun round the corner and hit the brakes as the Cortina slid to a halt under the glare of the panda car’s flashing lights. Chris and Ray were just pulling up and Sam saw the open mouthed shock on both their faces at the way he’d dared drive the Guv’s beloved Cortina. “Not now,” he snapped before turning to the on duty officers. “Kick down every door. No exceptions. Find them. Where the hell are the plods who were supposed to be watching him?”

“Tried to stay back to avoid notice and lost him,” Chris mumbled. “They’ve radioed in their location and they’re coming in now. Took a right instead of a left and they’re half way across Manchester.” 

“Idiots,” Sam snarled. “Utterly useless fucking idiots!” That being said he barreled into the building with Chris and Ray close behind.

“Where are they?” He snarled at the man behind the counter. “Aurora and the punter. Where are they?” 

“313,” the man pointed toward the stairs shakily. “They’re in 313.”

He took the stairs two at a time, uncaring that Chris and Ray were wheezing along behind. “Aurora!” He screamed as he barreled through the stairway door. “Aurora!” 

“Sam!” He heard the shriek from the end of the hall. 

“She’s up here,” Sam yelled over his shoulder and into the stairway as Chris bounded through the door, Ray just behind. “She’s in there.” 

“Right Boss,” Ray agreed as he pushed ahead and kicked the door to the room down. Sam pushed past him urgently and stopped at the sight. 

She was tied to the bed. Her right eye bruised and swollen, head turned to the side gasping for air. Pitcairn was standing over her, knife in his hand. 

“Put down the knife,” he ordered. 

He stood watching, time slowed, as Andrew Pitcairn turned to look at him blankly before doing just that. Dropping the knife and staring at him. “I just wanted to make them better,” he sighed. “Take out whatever it is that makes them wrong. Fix them. Heal them. It never works. I keep studying them to figure out what it is. Where the problems are. What’s been corrupted. It never works though. They just keep going bad.” 

Sam stared at him for a moment and realized that the eyes boring into his own had no affect whatsoever. He looked over at Chris and nodded. Waited for the other man to step behind Pitcairn and begin cuffing him. Noticed the man didn’t even struggle against the restraints. “I just can’t heal them,” Pitcairn said softly. “I’m a doctor but I can’t heal them.” 

“Andrew Pitcairn,” Sam replied. “You are under arrest for the rape and murder of fourteen women. And the attempted rape and murder of Aurora Tucker. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defense.” 

“That’s not how it goes,” the man replied and tilted his head to the side. “I really don’t think that’s how it goes Inspector.” 

“Take him outside,” Sam shook his head at the nearby plod. 

“Boss,” Ray broke in. “Boss we have a problem.” 

“Ray?” He turned to see Carling standing over the top of Aurora, digging frantically at the knots around her wrists. 

“She’s bleeding Boss,” Ray announced as he glanced down at her abdomen and then up at Sam. Sam’s gaze followed Ray’s and saw the widening stain on her dress. 

“Aurora,” Sam snapped as Chris started tearing at her ankle restraints and Sam pushed his jacket across her stomach to put pressure on the wound. “Talk to me Aurora.” 

“Sam?” She turned to smile at him and he could see that her eyes had taken on a glassy sheen. “Knew you’d show up. Did you get him?” 

“We got him Aurora,” Sam confirmed. Turning he looked at one of the plods. “Call paramedics! We need an ambulance.” 

“Don’t be so melodramatic Sam,” she answered softly as Ray released her left wrist and stepped back. “It’s just a scratch.” 

“Just a scratch,” Sam nodded as Chris came round the side of the bed and took over applying pressure. He reached over and took her hand, massaged it between his own. Saw the extent of the wound properly for the first time. “Just bleeds a lot. Need to have it seen to. Might need stitches.” 

“Get your wish,” she answered and he saw her eyes beginning to droop. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me Aurora,” Sam squeezed her hand tighter. “I need you to stay awake until the ambulance gets here. Want to bask in being your hero and that means you’re not allowed to fall asleep.” 

“My hero,” she mumbled and looked at him through drooping lids. “Always have been my knight in shining armor. Prince Charming with a badge.” 

“Keep flattering me Aurora,” Sam nodded and closed his eyes briefly. “Keep telling me how wonderful I am. Get you stitched up and take you on vacation. India, remember you said that night I made you carbonara in my flat that you’d always wanted to go to India? Take you to India. Watch the sun rise over the Ganges. See the Taj Mahal.” 

“They won’t let you off work,” she argued. “Need you here.” 

“Let me worry about work,” Sam replied with a tight smile. “Just stay awake for me and as soon as you’re healed up I’ll take you to India. Long holiday. Just the two of us.”   
“Remember the first time I saw you,” she whispered. “You took me outside so mum could fix dad’s tea. Gave me the apple out of your lunch bag. Everyone else always gave me candy but you gave me an apple instead.” 

“Candy would have rotted your teeth,” Sam whispered back. “Keep talking to me Aurora, just keep talking. The ambulance will be here soon.” 

“Told me to stay away from spinning wheels and dragons,” she pressed. “Because of the story.” 

“Right,” Sam nodded. “Because of the story. Hazardous to your health. Spinning wheels and dragons are dangerous things for a fairy princess. Knew I’d have to keep them away from you.” 

Turning away from her for a moment he looked at Ray. “Find out what’s taking the ambulance so long!” 

“It only hurt for a minute,” she whispered. 

“It’s fine Aurora,” Sam turned back to her. “It’s just a scratch. It just looks worse because of the blood. You’ll be fine. Can’t be serious. That’s not how the story goes. Remember? The princess always gets happily ever after.” 

“Should have stayed with you instead of going out the fire escape,” she mumbled. “Thought about how you looked sleeping on the sofa when that punter shot me. Should have just given him the money like you told me. Wished I’d have stayed with you instead.” 

Felt the pulse in her wrist flutter once as the eyes took on a glassy sheen. “She’s not breathing,” Chris announced suddenly. 

The Brothers Grimm were fools, Sam decided later as Ray pulled him by the collar from the morgue. Wherever they lived, wherever they wrote about, it wasn’t Manchester in 1973. It wasn’t in the deranged madness that was inside Sam’s mind. They wrote and lived in a world better than this, better than him. Better than the jaded, cynical, bastard of a failure he’d become. The fairy tale princesses of Grimm lived happily ever after, in Sam Tyler’s version they just lay there and bled. Didn’t even manage to hang on for the ambulance.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

“No Frank, I wouldn’t say that the trip was a complete failure. We’ve put the word out in the right circles that Andrew Pitcairn has plead guilty to murder and won’t be bothering his Missus again. It’ll just take time for the message to get to her and for her to build her courage up enough to come home.”

“Gene with the expense that we laid out for this trip,” he could see Frank Rathbone looking nervously at the Commissioner. 

“DCI Hunt’s expenses were not covered by the Constabulary,” John broke in. “They were covered by me personally. At my request and I’m sure that because it was at my request the time will not be taken against DCI Hunt’s accrued personal time, even if he did offer it willingly.” 

“Well,” he could see Rathbone hesitating. Would he really go up against John? Gene wondered idly as he leaned back to light a smoke. Not something Gene would consider but he’d seen the other man in pub fights and knew he’d play dirty. Taught Gene quite a few tricks in their time together. Stuff that had even impressed Harry Woolf back when he was their DI and Harry knew his own fair share on how to fight nasty. 

“Good,” John stood up imperiously and glared down his nose at Rathbone. Gene couldn’t help but smile. Looked like he had been when he’d dressed down recruits 25 years earlier. Dirt under his feet and Gene knew it was killing Frank Rathbone to sit there and take it. “That’s settled then I believe DCI Hunt needs to get back to his team. And I have serious work to do Frank. If you are finished that is.” 

“Yes,” Rathbone nodded weakly. “I’m finished. I just thought you’d be more disappointed with DCI Hunt’s results Commissioner.” 

“I am,” John cast a glance at Gene. “He taught her how to play hide and seek much to well when she was a girl. She remembered everything her Uncle taught her when she was a grown up. Shame she’s a girl isn’t it?” 

“Well, um,” Rathbone looked between the two of them. 

“She were a boy she’d have Frank’s job by now and I’d be taking orders from her,” Gene agreed. “She’d have been an excellent copper.” 

“Right, well,” Rathbone’s jaw had slipped open. 

“Isabelle wants you to come round tomorrow night for tea Gene,” John patted him on the shoulder and together they walked out of Rathbone’s office, ignoring the other man entirely. 

“Only if she has that cook of your’s make a treacle sponge.” Gene chuckled. “Woman could crush the Soviet Bloc with that sponge.Brezhnev would hand her the keys to the Kremlin for a second helping.” 

“I know Clarissa always appreciates your appetite Gene. I’ll pass it along to her that you’re coming and I’m sure she’ll pull out all the stops.” 

“Mm,” Gene nodded and then looked over his shoulder. “Drink in my office?” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” John answered. “Bring that DI of yours in and we’ll fully brief him on the case. Boy deserves it after all. Did catch the Canal Side Slasher in the act.” 

“About that,” Gene shoved his hands in his pockets and looked over at John. 

“Hmm?” 

“About my DI’s part in that,” Gene continued. 

“Amazing that the man got across town so quickly after Desk Sergeant Dobbs called him on the radio. True devotion to his work. And brilliant deduction on his part that Andrew was using the Charleston House Hotel for his crimes. Triangulate it from the dump sites?” 

“Yeah,” Gene nodded. “That’s what he did. Worked it out from the dump sites. Always like that, thinking things through and coming up with new leads. Brilliant, bit unnerving but brilliant none the less.” 

“Right,” John agreed as they made their way down the corridor toward CID. “Shame about the girl. Absolutely no idea who she is except for her working name and that’s probably fake. Like she never even existed before that night.” 

“Shame,” Gene agreed. 

“You know,” John stopped as they reached the swinging doors. “I’m going to have to take a rain check on that drink Gene. Have a lot of paperwork to finish. What about that DC of your’s? Still wanting her transferred out?” 

“Yeah,” Gene nodded. 

“Shame, a female DC was a regular feather in our cap here in Manchester. Don’t think she’s learned her lesson?” 

“I’d leave that up to you John,” Gene replied. 

“Well no matter. I’ve got her transfer paperwork finished. Had her moved to road safety. Seems your girl did quite well as Tufty the Squirrel while Frank Morgan was here. Didn’t think she’d mind doing it again. I’ll even let her keep her rank, that way we can still look empowered when it comes to the girls, and you know how birds and kiddies are. ” 

“Go together like steak and chips,” Gene agreed. “Sure you don’t want that drink?” 

“Nah, save it till tomorrow night. Or pour your DI a double. He’s certainly earned it.” 

“Right. See you tomorrow night then.” 

“Gene,” John put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “The girl in forensics, Baxter?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Heard from a few little birds that you’re rather fond of her.” 

“Smart one,” Gene nodded. “Brighter than the blokes down there by a long shot. She’s been instrumental in some of our cases. This one and the Tiggs murder specifically.” 

“Sure she is,” John agreed. “Just thought I’d remind you that sometimes it’s best to keep your friendships with female officers discreet. Wouldn’t want anyone talking would we?” 

“Right,” Gene agreed before he pushed into the bullpen of CID and looked around him. Ray’s feet were on his desk and Gene was certain that was his copy of Jugs the man was panting over. Skelton was working through a plate of biscuits as he concentrated on his paperwork and Gene knew by the time it reached him it would be unreadable for all the smeared chocolate on it. Glanced over and saw Sam chewing on his thumbnail nervously like he was waiting for the axe. Or the boot, Gene thought. Still didn’t realize that they took care of their own and Sam’s little secret would be kept safe. Just like their little secret was now safe.

“Office Tyler,” Gene jerked his head toward his closed door. 

“Guv,” Sam followed him inside and sat across the desk as Gene reached into his desk for the scotch. “Heard it didn’t go as well as we’d hoped in New York.” 

“The official line,” Gene poured both of them a healthy measure. “Is that I was unable to find Miranda Walters Pitcairn in New York City and she’s still flapping in the wind. The official line is also that I left a message at Sunshine Village to be passed on to her that her bastard husband had been arrested and it was safe for her to return home. It is also the official line that we are holding out hope Miranda will make contact with her parents and reestablish a relationship. Because this is a family matter and not against the law it’s also the department’s official line that if she does it’s none of our business.” 

“The official line?” Sam leaned back in his chair and let his gaze flick up to Gene’s. He noticed a smile curling on the other man’s lips. “And what would the official line be if it were drunk, disorderly and deciding to be unofficial?”

“That would be that I found Miranda the first day I was there. Had a lovely lunch with her and her friend. I also called their flat as soon as you called me to say that Andrew Pitcairn had confessed to being the Canalside Slasher.” 

“You saw Miranda?” Sam stared at him. “But then why are we telling people she’s missing?” 

“She and the girl are lovers,” Gene shrugged. “Not told her parents that of course. Told them she’s got a lover,” he corrected. “Even told them it was a nice girl. Someone found her a job working there with a relief agency. Teaching refugees to speak English and the like. Get the kids in school.” 

“Someone?” 

“Ethel Stein if I had to guess but couldn’t say for sure. Told me she wanted a new life Sam,” Gene drained his glass and poured another one. “Somewhere she wasn’t a Stanley, wasn’t the wife of a serial killer who carved up prozzies. Wanted a fresh start somewhere that no one knew her. Couldn’t say I blamed her.” 

“Does the Commissioner and his wife know?” 

“Told them, agreed it’s for the best if we keep it quiet. Don’t want people knowing their only child is a lesbian. Or that she doesn’t want to come home. Doesn’t want to see them. Thought it best to save them that embarrassment. John will let it quietly be known in about six months that he’s spoken with Miranda and that she’s met a young man there in the States and is getting married.” 

“Try to cover it up?” Sam shrugged. 

“Try to keep their dirty laundry private,” Gene corrected. 

“About Pitcairn’s last victim,” Sam finished his drink and Gene reached over to pour him another. 

“No identification on her. Jane Doe. Department will give her a proper burial. Don’t worry Sam. Shame the plods didn’t call it in faster when they lost Pitcairn, might have been able to save her.” 

“The plods?” 

“The plods that called it in. Before Phyllis relayed to you that Pitcairn was missing,” Gene looked Sam squarely in the eye. 

“Gene,” Sam looked at him and he slammed his glass on the desk. 

“Sam, that is what the department is saying. That’s what is in the reports, that is what is in Phyllis’s call logs. The plods called in after they lost Pitcairn’s car. You followed your gut instinct and searched the Charleston House Hotel looking for Pitcairn. You meanwhile have never seen the victim before in your life Inspector. You most certainly did not know her and there will be no allegations that you spent every Thursday night in her company. Is that clear?” 

He saw Sam flinch as he brought his fist down on the desk again. “Is that clear Tyler?” 

“You knew?” 

“Knew?” 

“That I was meeting Aurora once a week.” Sam grimaced. “You didn’t care that I was seeing a prostitute? Didn’t matter to you?” 

“I’d have cared more if you’d done something besides taken her out to dinner and try to talk her out of peddling her arse on the streets. Cared a hell of a lot more about my torn up kitchen every week and the fact that you always drank my best scotch in your pity party afterwards.” 

“You followed us?” Sam’s voice was quiet and Gene wasn’t sure if the other man was upset or stunned. 

“Wanted to make sure the both of you were all right. Went by when I had a few minutes and checked up on her myself. Figured you might know her from Hyde or something. Girl got into trouble and you were trying to help her steer out of it. Didn’t need to pry.” 

“Hyde,” Sam muttered. “Yeah, I knew her from before. From Hyde.” 

“Shame you couldn’t make her see sense. You’ve been pulling double shifts with me gone. Take a day, I’ll have Oswald make the arrangements.” 

“Right,” Sam nodded. “Thanks. Think I’ll do that.” 

“Right,” Gene nodded. “It’s beer o’clock then. Coming?” 

“Just let me stop off at my desk and sign two more forms.” 

“Fine,” Gene agreed as he reached behind his desk for a bag. “Need to stop off in the basement anyway. Brought Cindyloo home a souvenir.” 

“You brought Baxter a souvenir? Nobody else got anything but Baxter got a souvenir. I’m starting to think you’ve got a crush for real Guv and not just for show.” 

“Saw it and couldn’t help myself. John mentioned our little romance and I thought this might help seal the idea of our ‘illicit affair’ in everyone’s mind once and for all. Besides I brought you home a present too you poofter. I just thought I’d wait till we were home to give it to you. So don’t you dare start with that sulk of your’s or I’ll chuck it in the canal and just give you a spanking instead.” 

“Right, those forms will wait till tomorrow. I want to see this. Oh and Guv?”

“Huh?” 

“Maybe we could work out a way to do both?” 

“Both?” 

“Souvenir and spanking?” 

Gene snorted and walked out of CID, a smiling Sam Tyler tagging along behind. He shoved his left hand in his pocket and swung the bag idly in his right while they were in the lift. Smug little git was smiling at him. Wasn’t like he’d bought her roses or something. Saw it at a stand in the park and decided on a whim to buy it. 

It had nothing to do with the dream he’d had the night before, Gene reminded himself. Nor the fact that she was so gamely acting as their accomplice within the station. Might have put her in his mind but he hadn’t bought her a gift out of guilt. There was nothing wrong with him besides some dodgy mushu pork. It was to blame for the vivid dreams he’d had of her and Sam, Gene felt his cheeks heat slightly as he glanced over at Tyler. 

He wouldn’t dare tell the smug little bastard about how he’d dreamed about him fucking Baxter into the floor. Her covered in sherbert and sucking on a curly wurly. It was mushu pork and jet lag that had caused it and he’d nothing to feel ashamed about. Nothing wrong with a man having a little fantasy. Even if it was of watching his lover and the forensic scientist who was acting as his beard get it on while defiling candy.

“Guv!” She hopped off her stool and gave him a hug. He tried his best not to think about how she’d looked smeared down in white powder. “I heard about your trip. Sorry.” 

“Nothing to worry about Cindyloo.” Gene shrugged and glanced over at Sam. Why was the bastard blushing? Not like he could read Gene’s thoughts. “Happens that way sometimes.” 

“Right,” she agreed. “Are you ok Inspector Tyler? Sam?” 

“Huh?” Sam looked up at her and then dropped his eyes resolutely to his feet. “I’m fine.” 

He didn’t look fine, Gene thought. Looked like a 13 year old boy with his first hard on. Swallowed and tried not to remember how Tyler had looked in his dream. Going at her full steam like a demented jack rabbit on speed. 

“Brought you a present,” Gene broke in suddenly, trying to relieve Tyler of his embarrassment. 

“You did?” She smiled. 

“Here,” handed her the bag. Watched her smile grow as she pulled out the bright red shirt with ‘Trust me I’m a Doctor’ written on it in white letters. “Like it?” 

“Love it,” she replied as she gave him a brief hug. 

“Well,” Gene patted her on the shoulder. “Good. We’ll just be off to the pub now won’t we Sammy? Don’t want to take up any of your time. Important science stuff to do.” 

“Right,” Sam swallowed and glanced at Gene. Jesus Sammy was jumpy all of a sudden. “Tests and experiments, evidence analysis,” his voice sounded almost strangled on the last two words. 

“Right,” she agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Sure,” Sam agreed as he pulled Gene out the door of forensics. “Tomorrow.” 

“Huh,” Cindy thought as she watched them stalk away. Must have been able to tell she’d been dreaming about the two of them last night. She shook her head and shrugged it off, again, as lack of sleep and a surge in hormones. It was the only way to explain it really. Why else would she have had a dream about being in a bathtub, curled up against DCI Gene Hunt’s chest with him feeding her chocolates while DI Sam Tyler rubbed her feet? It had to be the hormones she reminded herself as she made her way to her office and started rummaging for a curly wurly. She didn’t even like chocolate normally.


End file.
